Haldórer: A Boy and His Dragon
by JBlaec
Summary: Nearly five hundred years have passed since the fall of Galbatorix. The Dragon Riders regained their former glory and now live in lands east of Alagaёsia. When an egg hatches for a boy on the night of his birthday, his life changes forever. Now away from home, Harry learns what it means to be a Rider. But as his knowledge and powers grows, darkness returns to Haldórer. (REWRITTEN)
1. The Honorable Rider

AN: Hey everyone, it's been a long time. And while I have many reasons, it's really no excuse just to drop off the face of the earth. So I'm back and I'm holding myself more accountable. I've rewritten all the chapters posted (as I changed the direction of this story and improved the syntax), deleted one, and will post one chapter once a week on Tuesdays. So sorry for restarting the story after being gone for so long. Hopefully this chapter makes up for it. Until this story finishes, I've put the others on the back burner.

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A week had passed since the Civil War's end. One week since the most infamous dark lord in Diagon history had perished. Vanquished not by a dauntless warrior, but at the hands of a virtuous babe. Many wept and considered the anomaly to be a miracle; others thought it to be poetic justice. How could a vile creature such as he, with unimaginable and unspeakable powers, be overpowered by such purity?

Yet no one questioned such a wonder. For blood had been shed profusely for over a decade and now Voldemort was no more. Finally, there was a sense of peace and the people had never been happier. The entire capital, as was the entire nation, was in a series of jubilant celebrations. People were dancing gaily amongst friends, families, and even complete strangers.

Music of all variety was played. Colored lights shot from wand tips high above the tiled roofs. Banners with the Diagon's emblem hanged on every building. The urge to celebrate with abandon was so contagious that not even the nobles were immune to the fanfare. And their celebrations were more grandiose.

Standing tall and proud in the center of the city capital was the famous Whitehall Castle; home to the three monarchs. Fireworks exploded high above the towers and turrets. The colorful banners of the three monarchs waived proudly in the mild wind. Even the weather was fair, the sky was clear, and the sun was bright; an appropriate reflection to the hope and joy shining within the people.

The ancient castle basked magnificently under the sunlight. Within the Great Hall was a festival unlike any other. Noblemen and women of magi, muggle, and the occasional elf twirled about the marble floor. Exotic foods were served continuously; wine and other liquors were consumed without care. And even the kings themselves were seen dancing about with their respective queens.

Yet despite the exuberant mood there was one individual that refused to partake in the festivities. He stood in the shadows casted over by large columns; arms crossed tightly over his chest with the hood of his cloak pulled up so as not to be easily recognizable. Even the clothes he wore, usually bright and attention grabbing, were muted to help him further blend into the obscurities. He was a tall man, nearly as tall as the elves, with long auburn hair and beard. His eyes, normally twinkling with merriment, were steel blue.

He was a legendary figure in his own right, the first person of Haldórer to gain acceptance into the Order. His name was Albus Dumbledore. He was one of the elders that were taught by the mighty Eragon Shadeslayer and led the third front in the Civil War. His spectacular feats were heard across Haldórer and possibly parts of Alagaёsia. Quite often, Albus was known for his quip humor and questionable fashion sense. Yet with all his humor and joyfulness, none could be found today.

As he watched the nobles of Diagon twirl around to the music, he couldn't help but feel revulsion growing in the pit of his stomach. His eyes were alight with ire when they rested on certain individuals such as the aloof Malfoys and the smarmy Lord Karkaroff. People he knew were knights of the Walpurgis Army, but could not be proven otherwise. His right hand clenched tighter in anger when he saw Lord Nott share a dance with Queen Molly.

This was an injustice. While Diagon was free from the clutches of a homicidal magus, and many of his followers were either dead or imprisoned, many more had slipped through the cracks of justice. There were flaws in laws that needed rectification and the country practically had to be rebuilt. There were too many cities that were nothing more than ruins, a high number of persons still missing. The economy was on the brink of collapse and the goblins were watching Diagon's borders with too much interest. If actions weren't taken soon, Diagon would find itself in another cataclysm.

As it were, the monarchs thought very little of their country's fragile state. They danced and celebrated as though they had actually contributed to the fight for freedom. It sickened Albus. But there was only so much a Rider could do before it became intrusive into the politics.

Mentally sighing and praying for longsuffering, the disgruntled man reminded himself the Code all Riders lived by. He muttered the mantra under his breath many times before he felt himself calm. His hand, which he hadn't notice until now, unfurled from the pommel of his sword, cramped due to the strain in his muscles.

The Rider sighed tiredly, leaning his weight onto the column next to him. The war exhausted him greatly. The deaths and arduous decisions still weighed heavily on his shoulders. It was a burden Albus didn't wish on anyone. It was a consequence of his position. A reminder of what he truly was.

A humble servant to the people. Not a mighty ruler. It was against the Code to seek power for selfish gain. Riders weren't rulers and lords over land, nor should they ever be.

But…there were moments in his life that the thrall of power called to him like a siren. Moments when politicians and monarchs behaved ludicrously at the risks of the common people. Moments, where deep within his heart, Albus understood the reasonings behind an old friend's actions.

 _Your mind wanders into dangerous thoughts, my Rider._ A deep voice was rumbled telepathically through the magus' Bond.

Albus sighed tiredly and pinched the bridge of his nose. _I'm all too aware, my Fireball. Yet you must understand why it is hard not to think such a way when you see what I see._

The dragon, affectionately nicknamed Fireball, hummed and kept quiet for a few minutes. Albus figured his dragon was collecting his thoughts, so he turned his attention over to the Hufflepuff King, who was practically intoxicated, as he flirted with a young noblewoman. Albus rolled his eyes. If only Queen Helga could see her descendant now.

 _Is it wrong to celebrate freedom after struggling through dark times?_

 _There is still much to do!_ Albus protested. _The country is vulnerable and needs to rebuild. The goblins watch the borders like bandits. Court hearings for the accused must be held. And there is so much more that needs to be done-_

 _Albus._ The tone and command in the dragon's voice stopped the Rider mid-rant. _You've taken so much responsibility in this war, you are overstressing yourself._

 _There is a reason Fawkes, you more than anyone else know this._

 _You still believe the dark creature will return?_ Fawkes' tone was filled with disbelief.

 _I do. And I worry more than just Voldemort's inevitable return. We must prepare the people for his resurrection._

The dragon rumbled and Albus knew his friend was more concerned than annoyed with Albus' worrisome nature. As the war dragged on, Albus felt the concern of his fellow dragon mount each day. Sometimes, when the amount of stress became insurmountable, Fawkes would abduct him and take Albus out into the wild for a day or two to relax. In hindsight, the Rider grudgingly admitted it was the right thing to do.

It had been some time since Albus had felt overburdened with stress and guilt. Memories of a not too distant pass unwillingly swam to the forefront of his mind. They swirled and taunted him blocking Albus from the hear and now. Images indecipherable from one another rushed him at dizzying speeds. Buried memories haunted him, yet made his heart soar. The ache in his chest more noticeable. Images of a man with a crooked smile and-

 _Albus!_ The dragon roared. Startled from unwanted remembrances Albus shook his head clear and focused back to the nobles twirling about the hall. The ache in his chest still lingered. His dragon remained silent as Albus feigned interest in the Hufflepuff King's drunken escapades.

A sigh of relief left his lips, he was in no mood to converse about _him._ Not when there were more pressing matters to be concerned with. If only it was as easy to lie to his heart as it was his mind.

 _Albus._ Fawkes called again. The Scarlet Rider hummed under his breath, inclining his head in the direction of where his companion was located; the castle not built to accommodate dragons. _You have done your duty to the people, my Rider. More than what I consider to be healthy._ Albus winced at the darkened tone. _The war has put much stress on you, I will not blame you if you want to leave for the wilderness. Escape from the madness, at least for a little while._

 _The Council would think otherwise. In fact, a few that would accuse me of abandoning the Code._

Albus felt the hot anger surge through their Bond. His chest rumbled with a deep growl, not of Albus' own doing. _Then they will have me to answer to._

Despite the severity of Fawkes' voice, Albus' lips twitched humorously. The image of a seven meters tall dragon berating a few stuffy elves was comical. What he wouldn't give to see that in real life.

 _As good as your intentions are, I fear they would do more harm than good._ His dragon felt otherwise. _You worry too much for my wellbeing, Fawkes._

Fawkes' growl rumbled deep within his chest. _Clearly, I don't worry enough. The war has affected everyone, but it has affected you greater than even the kings._

Albus exhaled a breath of longsuffering. _The kings did little to aide in the war. The responsibility laid solely at our feet._

 _A burden I wished you didn't feel compelled to carry on your own. There were other Riders just as qualified and willing to apprehend the dark magus._

While Albus agreed with Fawkes' sentiment, he knew any other Rider wouldn't have been enough. Voldemort did not fear anyone but Albus. And Albus was the only one to truly see the monster that lurked beneath the charming façade, even when he was just a boy.

 _What's done, is done. The war is over, and Voldemort has been vanquished._

Fawkes was not so easily swayed by his Rider's words. _If you truly believed what you were saying, you would participate in the fanfare with your allies. Not brood in the shadows shackled with stress and guilt._

 _You worry too much-_

 _And you worry not enough! Can you not see the state of your mental and physical health, Albus?_

 _I have little time to look after myself-_

 _Then make the time, or is that a task to great for the_ famous _Albus Dumbledore?_

Albus was at a loss for words. He stood, hidden in the shadows, body numb to the outside world. Deep down, he knew Fawkes was right to worry for him. His mental health was the least of his concern. There were always more pressing matters to attend. Whether they be reconnaissance missions, battle plans, order meetings, or court meetings. The Civil War had consumed him. He breathed, sweat, bled, and even dreamed the war; the faces of fallen friends would always haunt him.

The war ended so abruptly, Albus was thrown off balance. Even more so considering how the war finished. But he was still in the mindset of war. Albus still woke up with a thundering heart and short of breath. The images of destroyed towns and villages and the death of hundreds still plagued him in his sleep. His mind and body were on pins and needles and he had only noticed the constant wavering of his hand over his sword.

Albus let go of the breath he was holding in a shuddering sigh and clamped a hand tightly around his balled fist to stop the shaking. His body sagged further against the column. Worry seeped through their Bond and for once Albus didn't fight his dragon on his nagging behavior. The adrenaline and stress used to keep his body mobile had drained from him. So much that Albus was finding it hard to keep his eyes open.

He wouldn't be surprised if he'd fallen asleep right there, regardless of the cacophony of voices. Sleep was hard to come by during the war, at least restful sleep. Even a week after the war's conclusion, Albus had gotten little to no sleep. He was sure his dragon was no different. Fawkes constantly worried over his wellbeing.

Albus was ashamed to admit he thought little of his companion's health. Even as a dragon, there was only so much one could take. War tested even the mightiest of persons. He was sure Fawkes needed as much, if not more, rest as Albus did. Both needed time to regain their strength.

 _Forgive me for my selfishness, Fawkes. Once again, I placed the good of others before you._

A low purr reverberated through the Bond. Albus felt the mental nudge of affection their inner fire warming their soul, strengthening the connection they shared. The warmth filled the cold ache Albus had felt for so long. Finally, he could live.

 _There is no reason to apologize. You are my purpose and I will protect you with all my might...even from yourself._

Albus smiled in self-deprecation. Truly, he felt blessed to have such a friend. _When this is over, you and I are going to sleep for the rest of this century. And then we'll soar the skies until we touch the stars._

The dragon purred in contentment and the Bond was saturated with the love and warmth he had for his Rider.

 _You still wish to speak to the Gryffindor King?_

 _Not so much as wish, as it is necessary. I can't prolong this any longer. We at least owe the boy that much._

The dragon sighed begrudgingly and made his displeasure know strongly. Albus winced, feeling like a chastised child once again. _I swear to you Fawkes, this will be the last thing I do for a long time. I promise you and I will get our much-deserved rest come sunset._

 _I will hold you to that._ Fawkes huffed. _Now if you want to speak to the king, might it best to join in on the festivities? Unless you'd rather brood in the shadows like a certain Rider of ours._

 _Quiet you._ Albus quipped, the dragon chuckled.

Now in somewhat better spirits, Albus gathered what energy he had left and joined the nobles dancing without care.

Loathed as he was to do so, Albus lowered his hood and straightened out the wrinkles in his clothing.

A rotund middle-aged lord stopped in his tracks and gaped at the tall Rider. The man's cherry red face flushed further and with a gaping smile the lord raised his goblet high. "Hail, Rider Dumbledore!"

"Hail, Rider Dumbledore!" The Great Hall erupted into a thundering applause and the people toasted the Rider for their newfound peace. The Dragon Rider noted the reluctant to toast in his name in the formerly accused Walpurgis knights.

His eyes settled on a pair of cold grey eyes. The platinum blond hair, and aristocratic features belonged to none other than Lord Malfoy. The two men stared down one another until the lord turned his eyes from the Rider. Albus wasn't fooled. He lacked the proof, but the Scarlet Rider knew where Malfoy's allegiance truly laid.

One day the man will become a problem.

He didn't dwell much longer on thoughts of war and snakes among men. He had another, more important, task to accomplish. He urgently needed to speak to the Gryffindor King. If only it were easy.

Because of his fame and the people declaring him a war hero, Albus never had a moment to himself. There was never a shortage of women of all ages wanting to dance with the Rider. With each dance partner and unpleasant flirting, Albus longed for his shadowed sanctuary.

 _You've fought ghoulish creatures, yet your greatest fear is women?_

Albus groaned irritably, the menace would take joy in his pain. You _dance a few rounds with libidinous women and see if you still feel the same._

 _Ah, but why should I when I can take joy in seeing you frolic about the hall?_

 _I do not frolic!_ He yelled indignantly.

The dragon laughed deeply at the Rider's expense. _Pouting like a child will not sway me._

 _Don't you have to go shed your skin in a remote place?_

 _I am_ not _a cold-blooded snake!_

 _…Lizard?_

 _Albus!_

Albus and Fawkes traded playful barbs while the Rider danced from one woman to the next. Despite the lightheartedness the man shared with his dragon, he still couldn't shake the residual urgency of his last mission.

Yet he still couldn't find the king, nor could he in could conscious brush the women aside. He feared his mother would return to haunt him.

He had been dancing for nearly an hour straight. His latest partner, a young woman with a daring dress, had subtly of a mountain troll. Her interests in him was made obvious in her leers. His cheeks never felt hotter and the raucous laughter of Fawkes did nothing to tame the forming headache.

It was with small consolidation that no other Rider was there to witness his plight. It was mortifying enough that his dragon bore witness. It would have been more humiliating if Murtagh was present, or worse Íorûnn.

The young woman continued flirting with the Rider pressing further into his personal space than polite when she interrupted by another woman clearing her throat pointedly.

His dance partner twisted her face into an ugly snarl and snapped her head to the "intruder". Albus had never seen a face turn paler than the young woman before him.

"Y-your majesty!"

Standing before them was the Gryffindor Queen, Queen Molly. She raised a sardonic brow at the lady before her. "May I cut in?"

The young woman was smart enough to recognize a command when she heard one. "O-of course not, your majesty." The woman gave a hasty curtsy to both the queen and Rider before hightailing back into the throng of dancers.

Albus sighed in relief and wanted to kiss the angel on earth. "Thank you." He said graciously. "You have no idea how happy I am to see you."

The queen chuckled and moved to dance with the Rider. "I have some." The rider smiled sheepishly, a light blush brushed his cheeks. "Who would have thought, a powerful man such as yourself afraid of harmless advances from the young Miss Duncombe."

"I would hardly call the woman harmless." Albus deadpanned. "If her father heard even a sliver of what she said."

The queen guffawed and smacked the Rider's shoulder. Smilingly benignly, Albus led her through another dance at the change of the song.

Albus thought King Arthur was one of the luckiest men alive for marrying such a kind woman.

Of all the queens, Albus had seen grace the halls of Whitehall Castle, Queen Molly was one of his favorites. She had such a giving nature and was not easily swayed in her beliefs. There was once a time when the capital was under attack and the queen had open the doors to the common people in the aftermath. In many ways, the Gryffindor Queen reminded Albus of another woman. One whose brave heart and caring nature shined even brighter than Queen Molly's.

Albus' heart throbbed and through the bond he could feel deep sorrow emanating from Fawkes. The woman, as well as her family, was the reason why he was within the halls of Whitehall. As all were celebrating and toasting to a brighter morrow, little remembered what the ultimate cost was to achieve peace, the deaths of Lord and Lady Potter; better known as James and Lily Potter.

The Potters were a well-respected family whose lineage had long since pledged their allegiance to sigil of Gryffindor. Rather than living in a manor like other nobles, the Potters lived in a comfy cottage in a small town called Godric's Hollow. The small family also had three close family friends and could often be found at the cottage when not otherwise preoccupied with the war.

But their greatest pride and joy was their one and only son, Harry Potter. Born in the height of war, the birth of Harry reignited the Order's commitment to bring an end to the dark days. The Potters were some of the fiercest fighters Albus had ever seen in a magus right after their son were born. However, as was common in all war, nearly everything had fallen apart.

The Potters were forced into hiding. For reasons not commonly known, Voldemort was personally after their son, and it was no longer safe to leave the toddler alone. Using old magic, they hid in plain sight and trusted their secret to one person. Unfortunately, it was the wrong person, and James and Lily ultimately paid the grievous mistake with their lives. But miraculously, their son survived. Voldemort had vanished and only the boy remained, with nothing more than a peculiar scar on his forehead.

But he was now an orphan, and at such a young age! He would never again feel the loving touches of his parents. Would never get the chance to grow up and love them more with each passing day. All moments and milestones significant to goth child and parent, the Potters were robbed of. What was worse, the Potters were betrayed by a close friend. But did they have the wrong man? The Wizengamot certainly didn't think so as did the public. The man already laid in a cell in Azkaban.

Albus wasn't as positive. He knew the man in question. His actions went against everything Albus knew of the man. As far-fetched as it was, it wasn't impossible. War changes even the best of men, the Rider has seen this many times; too many in fact.

The young lord could be guilty of betraying the Potters to Voldemort, but there has never been a trial. Because Albus was called to aid the people of Diagon, it was his responsibility to watch over the court sessions of war crimes as an impartial party. Albus attended all of them, even the gut wrenching trial of the knights that attacked the Longbottoms, but there had never been a trial for Sirius Black.

The Court Judge and the Head of the Department of Law Enforcement refused to reopen the case. Leaving Albus no choice but to seek a meeting with the three monarchs and prime minister.

"Your mind wanders to the war, doesn't it?" the queen's soft voice broke Albus from his muddled thoughts. The queen had led him from the dance floor and moved them by the windows.

The Rider sighed haggardly and offered the Gryffindor Queen a grim smile. "Was I that obvious?"

Queen Molly gave the Rider a strained smile of her own. "Only to one whose experienced loss." Her eyes filled with unshed tears and she quickly dabbed them away with a handkerchief.

Albus' heart clenched, he felt the grief and sorrow emanating from Fawkes. The queen's twin brothers were members of the of Albus' organization. Honorable men and formidable fighters, it nearly impossible to see their bodies after the Battle of Dufftown.

The Rider cleared his throat and forced himself not to dwell any longer on the loss of the Prewetts. If he broke now, he would not have the strength to press on his final mission. "Yes, I suppose you do."

The queen scrutinized the Scarlet Rider. "What troubles you Dumbledore?"

"…too many things I wish not to burden you with, your majesty."

The queen wasn't easily swayed. "Dumbledore, I would like to think you and I have formed a kinship over the past decade. Whatever is bothering you, you can share it with me. I'm made of sterner stock." As a mother of seven children Albus expected no less of her.

"I have many issues concerning the fallout of the end of this war. But there is one I wish to speak to your husband and the others of the Sovereigns' Council. It is urgent I find him as soon as possible." _While I still have the energy._

"And what it so urgent?"

Smiling wanly, Albus answered. "I owe James and Lily."

"The Potters!" she exclaimed.

"Yes, the Potters."

The queen hummed and Nodded to herself. Without preamble, she walked briskly into the throng of people. Albus stood baffled before shaking himself from his stupor and followed the Gryffindor Queen.

The Great Hall was surprisingly easy to cross. With the people paying more attention to the wines, hors d'oeuvres, and dancing, Albus could walk through without garnering much attention; it also helped that more than half of the guests were inebriated.

Finally, near the thrones, the Rider spotted the familiar Gryffindor crown. The Gryffindor King was conversing with an elder lord while his eldest son, now of school age and thus permitted to attend social gatherings, stood on his right-hand side listening with rapt attention.

The queen captured her husband's attention first, followed by the prince and lord. Curtsying respectably, the queen moved to her king's left ear and traded soft words with him. King Arthur smiled adoringly at his queen then politely dismissed the elder lord.

Queen Molly held out her hand to her son and led the reluctant prince to the dance floor. Passing the Rider, the queen wished the man well.

Turning back to the awaiting king, the Scarlet Rider bowed respectfully to the Gryffindor King. "Greetings, your majesty."

The king chuckled good naturedly and waived off his bow. "Come now Dumbledore, we've known each other long enough to forgo the formalities. As it is, it should be I that bows to you!"

"Er, that won't be necessary." Albus said hastily. Fawkes snorted in derision.

King Arthur gave the Rider a bright smile. "I should see why not! After how much you've done for our country, I believe I owe you more than a simple bow."

The king was a tall man, though not as tall as Albus, with a lean build. He had clear blue eyes, ginger hair and was dressed in the finest cloths of reds and gold. Atop of his head was a gold crown with a large ruby gem and from his right hip was the legendary sword of Godric Gryffindor. Of the three kings, Albus found King Arthur to the most level headed. Should Albus be able to convince him, the others would be more easily swayed.

The two men took a moment to observe the people laughing and dancing with abandon. Albus noted the warm smile and soft eyes of the Gryffindor King when they gazed upon his queen. "Your people are happy, your majesty." The Rider noted.

" _Our_ people, Rider." The king corrected. "You will always hold a place in the hearts of Diagon, especially after all of your efforts against the Walpurgis."

"While I am flattered by your words, my king. I do not deserve such praises. After all it was not _I_ that defeated the dark lord."

The king cleared his throat awkwardly. "Nonetheless, you've done much during the war. I say if it wasn't for that miraculous event, you would have done away the dark lord yourself!" Mentally, the Rider winced. "Can you imagine, a baby responsible for bringing down the worse dark lord we'd ever face? One that survived the _Killing Curse_? A true miracle blessed only by the All-father!"

"And all it cost, for such a _miracle_ , were the unnecessary deaths of two wonderful people. Parents that would never watch their son grow to become a man." the Rider interjected.

"Yes..." The king trailed off uncomfortably. "The deaths of Lord and Lady Potter were most unfortunate. Even worse they were betrayed by a close friend." the king frowned. "What is the reason for this conversation, Dumbledore?"

"The boy, Harry Potter, we are doing a huge disservice to him."

"Oh come now Dumbledore, the boy is in good hands. His relatives were more than accommodating when the boy was brought to their home. Cheer up, my good Rider; the dark days are over now."

Frustrated and tired, Albus was more than done with the king's blasé attitude.

 _And you say he is the most levelheaded?_ Fawkes asked incredulously.

 _I may have spoken too soon._

The Rider took a calming breath so as not to lash out on the king. "My king, the dark days are not over as you would wish to believe. But I'm afraid that is a conversation for a later date.

"The boy is placed into a home where the people care little for his wellbeing and more about his ill-begotten fame. They will exploit the boy to elevate their status. Already there is a line meters long to their home just to get a glimpse of the babe's scar. They even have the nerve to charge each person!"

"Surely you are exaggerating." the king scoffed. "Or is this one of your queer anecdotes?"

"I, and my dragon, have seen it with our own eyes. The boy is in an unstable home and should be moved to his true legal guardian."

"You're not suggesting..." King Arthur trailed off suspiciously.

"Lupin is more than capable of caring for the boy."

The king guffawed derisively. "Even if that were true, there would be a public outcry. The people will not approve a boy from a noble family, a savior no less, move in with a _werewolf_."

Albus stared coolly at the man. "I had thought you were above such prejudices."

"It is not _I_ that has a problem with werewolves," he quickly backtracked "but the majority including the other members of the Council. King Thaddeus believes werewolves to be nothing more than feral animals and should be hunted for sport."

"I am familiar with the Hufflepuff King's views." Albus replied sardonically. "But it was my hope that you would urge them to see reason."

Scoffing, the king said, "I long for the day when Thaddeus sees reason."

 _I second that notion._ Fawkes expressed dryly.

"What you are asking, Dumbledore, is impossible. The Council will never allow the Boy-Who-Lived to live with a werewolf."

"Then what of Black?" the Rider carefully broached. "According to their will, he is the rightful guardian of Harry Potter."

"Are you mad?" the king hissed. "Did you forget that it was _that_ renegade lord that betrayed the Potters to You-Know-Who, the same one that killed another magus and twelve muggles while attempting to flee the country?"

"I have heard all the tales. But there is a chance the man might be innocent."

"There is no chance! He's already been found guilty and is in Azkaban. This matter is closed."

The king started walking away when the Rider called out. "He was found guilty in the minds of the people, not by the law!" Albus called out. The king's shoulders stiffened. He turned on his heels, marched up to the other man and glared up at the Dragon Rider.

"I beg your pardon?" he asked in an even tone.

"I have attended every court hearing pertaining to the Civil War since its conclusion. Not once was a trial held for Black. Yet he rots away in Azkaban with a life sentence."

"What are you trying to say, Rider?"

"Both Court Judge and Head of the Department of Law Enforcement were made aware of their transgressions and chose to ignore them in favor of keeping their reputation." The Rider answered in a tone that said he found their actions objectionable.

"You speak treasonously." the Gryffindor King warned lowly. "And I will not stand idly while you continue to insinuate that our laws are flawed. The last Rider who had such thoughts-"

"I am well aware of the actions of the last Rider, _my king_." Albus interrupted firmly. "And if it is treasonous to speak to the truth then I fear the future of this country, of _our people_." The Rider finished passionately.

Heart racing and hands clenched, Albus forced himself a few steps from the king to regather his thoughts. He did not wish to fight with a fellow ally, he did not wish to fight at all. "King Arthur," he started calmly "I am not asking you to outright release Black from Azkaban. But give him the due process he is owed. To not do so would not only be an insult to the memories of Lord and Lady Potter, but to the Founders."

The two high ranking individuals stared at one another in tense silence until the king groaned under his breath. "You always did have a way with words, Dumbledore." he muttered. "Very well, I will do my best to convince the other kings to allow a trial for Black."

"Thank you." Albus said in gratitude.

"I should warn you, Rider, if Black is re-trialed," _Trialed._ "and is found guilty, the boy will live with his relatives, not with the werewolf."

The Rider smiled grimly. "Of that, I have no doubt. You will inform me once a decision has been made?"

"By the end of the week at the latest. You have my word." the king reluctantly agreed. "Until then, enjoy the celebrations, good Rider." he bade the Rider a farewell.

Albus watched as King Arthur whisked his wife onto the dance floor with the approving applause of their subjects. The Rider only watched the royal dance a few seconds longer before exiting the Great Hall from a side door.

He traveled through the vacant corridors, took many turns and stairwells until he reached a secluded courtyard. The Rider sighed in relief and took a deep breath of the crisp autumn air. Despite the castle's grand size, the walls and ceilings were too narrow for his liking; a side effect in spending nearly a century in a castle made for full grown dragons.

 _And there is my grumpy Rider._ Fawkes quipped.

Resting in the center of the courtyard was the dragon that Bonded to Albus. When standing; Fawkes reached twenty feet in height. He had scarlet red scales and gold colored eyes. A pair of bone-white horns protruded from the top of the skull and white spikes ran down the neck and back to the tip of his tail.

Currently the dragon rested on his stomach and gazed insipidly at the approaching Rider.

 _Hello to you too, Fawkes._ Albus chuckled. He patted the dragon's snout affectionately and Fawkes gave a pleased rumbled. The magus Rider made himself comfortable and rested against the dragon's leg. _What a long week._ He groaned.

 _Did you convince the king?_

 _I thought you were eavesdropping._

 _Off and on. There is only so much bureaucracy I have the patience for._

 _Little to none?_

 _Precisely._ The dragon stated impassively. _So, did you?_

 _By the skin of my teeth. With luck, the others will concede to King Arthur's wishes. The sooner Black is trialed, the sooner we can remove the boy from the Dursleys._

 _You assume Black will be found innocent?_

 _I predict the boy will not stay with the Dursleys, regardless of the verdict._

 _Do you wish to fly back to Little Whinging?_

 _No, you and I don't have the energy to make another journey. Besides the last I've checked, Minerva is handling her own against the boy's relatives; quite splendidly might I add._ Albus grinned and his eyes began to twinkle.

Fawkes chuckled humorously. _I always did like the woman. It is too bad she isn't a Rider herself._ Albus chuckled. _What of Lupin?_

 _He's still missing. The deaths of the Potters and the possible betrayal of Black or Pettigrew has hit him hard. For now, I think it's best to leave him to the comforts of the woods._

 _And Pettigrew?_

Albus frowned, subconsciously reaching for his sword. _He will be found and questioned thoroughly. In fact, I have many questions for Black as well, seeing as he was the secret keeper when the Potters perished._

 _You must have patience, Albus. All will be revealed in due time._

The Rider exhaled a long breath and rubbed tiredly at his eyes. _Yes, I suppose so. If only I could leave the country in good standing when we return to Deorcwuld._

 _The Elders can send for another Rider to assist in the reconstruction._

 _If the kings allow it. They are a prideful bunch and would not take too kindly to an outsider pointing out their flaws in government._ Albus frowned, wearily rubbing his brow. _They fail to see what's in front of them._

 _And what, my Rider, is it that they fail to see?_

 _The corruption that runs rampant right beneath their noses. How can it be possible that a man that fought for the freedom of Diagon slowly wastes away in Azkaban without due process yet members of the Walpurgis dance away in the Great Hall without fear of incarceration?_

 _I have no understanding how politicians think._ The dragon drawled. _But just as there will always be justice, there will always be corruption. One cannot exist without the other. If that were the case, the words would lose all meaning and we would lose our sense of morals. You can minimize one or the other but never can you be rid one completely. It is an impossible task and you will go mad, trying to achieve the impossible, Albus._

The Scarlet Rider hummed and idly twiddled his thumbs. _You're right…as always._

 _And never you forget._ Fawkes chuckled.

 _What a humble dragon I have._ Albus quipped.

 _If I was humble, I wouldn't be a dragon._

Albus hoped and prayed the kings concluded in his favor. Lives were at stake. The disgruntled Rider scowled darkly. Fate had a cruel way of repeating itself. However, this time would be different. Albus would not stand idly by. The last time Albus left a boy in an unloved home resulted in the Diagon Civil War. He would do whatever it took to not make the same mistake again. Consequences, be damned.


	2. The Snowy Egg

_Thirteen Years Later_

Harry breathed a sigh of relief once he finally passed the last of the outer laying cottages. Basking in the summer breeze and warm sun, the young boy leisurely strolled down the grassy knoll until he found a comfortable under the shade of a tree at the edge of the woods. He sat himself down at the foot of a tree and rested his back against the rough bark. It wasn't as comfortable as he would have liked it to be. But it was a far better situation than the one Harry was in earlier. Passed

Harry was an adolescent a few days shy of his fourteenth birthday. He had wild black hair that stuck in every direction and a pair of bright green eyes behind wire framed glasses. He was still short for his age and had a slim build and tanned skin. But the most peculiar feature of all was the lightning shape scar on his forehead. It was a scar that Harry had for as long as he could remember and one that made Harry easily recognizable to all that laid eyes upon him.

For Harry wasn't an ordinary boy, even by magi standards, but was famous. To all of Diagon, Harry was The Boy who Lived. When he was a little over the age of one, he ended the Civil War by miraculously defeating a dark magus whom went by the name Lord Voldemort. Not only was he able to defeat him, but was the only person ever to have survive the _Killing Curse_ with nothing more than a scar.

The event made him famous, but in turn it cost him his parents' lives. Harry no longer had any memories of his birth parents. He knew of them only through stories told by their friends. And while at times he missed them wholly, he was grateful to be raised by people who loved him for him and not of his ill-placed fame, namely Sirius Black and Remus Lupin.

Sirius Black was his father. A comparatively young nobleman, Sirius adopted Harry and rescued him from the Dursleys when he was nearly three years of age. They moved out to the countryside, bought a few acres of land with old family money. The rest was split into large sums for various family members and went into donations for rebuilding Diagon's infrastructure.

After that, Sirius and Harry withdrew from the public eye. And the young nobleman refused to work any position in the ministry, regardless of his high social standard and reclaimed war hero status. From what Harry knew of his father, the man once worked in law enforcement as an officer and was aspiring to becoming an auror. His aspirations, and feelings toward the ministry in general, changed negatively after his subsequent arrest and release from prison.

The man used the last of his earnings to start a business in mass producing an invention created by Harry's adoptive father and biological father, the two-way mirror. More convenient and less of a mess, the enchanted mirrors quickly grew more popular than using the floo network for communication. There were stores located in all the major cities of Diagon.

Then there was his honorary uncle, Remus Lupin. Uncle Remus didn't live with Harry and his father. But he visited so often that he had his own room. Uncle Remus was the same age as his father and was the more reserve of the two men, often balancing out the wild nature of his father.

His uncle spent most of his time living on a reserve deep in the woods near the Black Mountains. It was also where he worked to maintain the peace between the few packs that made the reserve their home.

Harry didn't know much about his uncle's life, he kept most of his life private and only Sirius was privy to every secret the man held. Growing up, Harry never minded his uncle's reclusive nature. After all, it was all he knew of the man. It was only last year, that Harry discovered his uncle's greatest secret; and even then, that had been an accident. Despite the secrets, Harry loved his uncle nearly as much as he loved his father.

The trio lived in a homely, two-story stone cottage just the outskirts of Godric's Hollow. With a great field of grass behind the house and the entire property covered by large deciduous trees. Sirius had proudly called their home and property the Marauder's Den, in homage to the four boys that called themselves Marauders.

Harry loved living at Marauder's Den. He loved Godric's Hollow. The people were friendly and humble. He had genuine friends, both muggle and magus, and he loved living with his atypical father and uncle; when he visited. If Harry had his way he would be there right now kicking ball between his friends or challenging them to a race on flying broomsticks.

Unfortunately, at least for Harry, that was not the case. For the past few days the young boy was forced to stay in a bustling town called Little Whinging. Even worse, the boy was staying with his maternal relatives; the Dursleys.

The Dursleys were a shallow family that cared too much on how they appeared to other people. His aunt took the roll of a housewife in pride and often spied on her neighbors to gossip about with other neighbors. It was a wonder how she had any friends.

His uncle was a large, burly man that was the town's local blacksmith and owned the smith shop called Grunnings. According to his uncle, Grunnings had been in the Dursley family for three generations.

The Dursleys also had a son around the same age as Harry name Dudley. Dudley was a large, spoiled, boy that could do no wrong in the eyes of his parents. But Harry knew him as some bully terrorizing smaller children around the neighborhood.

But the main reason of Harry's reluctance to ever visit them was their extreme infatuation over his fame. Every time Harry would see his relatives his Aunt Petunia would greet in an exaggeratedly polite voice and made sure she could be heard around the neighborhood.

At the tender age of thirteen, going on fourteen, Harry hated being called darling nephew, precious baby, and the worse of them all pumpkin. His Uncle Vernon would clap him on the back and call him tyke; not as bad as any of the nicknames his aunt uses.

His uncle used to bring Harry to his smith shop to learn how to forge weapons. Something the young boy thought he would enjoy until he realized he was being used to garner more sales from the surrounding towns and homesteads.

Oddly enough, the only one Harry could remotely tolerate was his cousin and that was because he hated Harry and his fame. Whether it was jealously for not being famous or anger for becoming second in his parent's eyes, Harry didn't know. And honestly, he had no interests in finding out. In his opinion, the less the two cousins converse with one another, the better.

And that was why Harry by himself, dozing lightly under the trees, a safe distance away from Little Whinging. It was better than being stuck in the house with a smothering aunt.

He really couldn't believe his luck; though shouldn't have been surprise seeing as his luck was never that great to begin with. His father had a business trip out in Macusa. Uncle Remus was still gone from his month-long stay at the reserve. The Tonks were currently vacationing at Avalon Island. Even Professor McGonagall was busy attending some transfiguration conference.

He couldn't spend time at Whitehall Castle as there was an assembly between the Sovereign's Council and the Wizengamot. Plus, his best friend, Ron Weasley, was busy with "princely duties". And lastly his other best friend, Hermione Granger, and her parents were visiting distant relatives all the way in Surda! Hence his stay with the Dursleys.

 _Just one more night._ Harry thought desperately. _One more night and_ _then dad will come for me in the morning and we can go back to the Den._ A wide smiled stretched across his face. Harry couldn't wait to see his own room, see his friends. Harry was so desperate he even missed their two-eccentric house-elves, one a cranky old grouch that mutters to himself and the other a hyperactive people pleaser with a tendency to maim as a way of helping. A lengthy tale for another time.

Harry couldn't wait to see his father. The man was going to get pranked horribly for leaving Harry at the mercy of the Dursleys for an entire week. The longest week of his life. Harry would much rather have spent that time sitting in Snape's potions classes.

Just the thought of the man, made Harry shuddered. "Maybe not." He backtracked. Professor Binns sounded safer, at least in his class Harry could sleep in peace without Uncle Vernon's raucous snoring.

In fact, sleep sounded very good to the young magus. Harry, once again, couldn't get much sleep between the loud snores of Uncle Vernon and Dudley echoing down the hall; he almost felt sorry for his aunt. So, Harry didn't fight it when his eyelids grew heavy and his body became laxed.

The rest of the afternoon was spent with the young boy dozing off and on, eating the small lunch he packed into a small bag, and watching the white clouds glide over the medium sized town. Sometimes Harry would pull out his wand and casted frivolous spells for some form of entertainment; he wasn't allowed to do magic in the Dursley household.

But cloud watching could only get an active teenager so far. Harry was once again bored with nothing to do. He refused to go back to the house on Privet Drive; his aunt was no doubt gossiping with her friend Yvonne. The town square was also a bad idea. If his uncle saw him from the smithy, Harry would be roped into "helping". The park was also no good, Dudley and his goons hanged out there. The less he saw of Dudley the better.

"Which leaves me right here, bored. _Great_." The boy muttered. He wished he had his friends with him in Little Whinging. Or the very least, that he could have brought along his flying broom with him. Harry wasn't allowed to, by both his father and aunt; an anomaly since the two loathed one another.

The last time Harry brought his broom it was nearly broken in half. Dudley claimed it was an accident, that he didn't mean to sit on the broom. Harry didn't believe him, neither did his father. So as a precaution, the broom stayed at the Marauder's Den. Uncle Vernon wanted Harry to leave his wand at the Den too, thankfully Sirius wouldn't hear of it and eventually Uncle Vernon dropped the matter, after finding all his clothes turned pink that is.

With nothing to do and not wanting to go back into town, Harry resigned himself to laying in the shade watching the clouds. "Maybe I should have brought a book." He could practically hear Hermione's smug grin…and Ron's appalled face.

The hours slowly crawled by and slowly the sun had begun its descent. The sky was now a pinkish orange color and the warm summer air began to cool. The surrounding trees were silhouetted by the setting sun and filled with the calls of birds preparing to roost for the night. Knowing sunlight was waning, Harry knew he had to go back to Privet Drive for dinner.

Reluctantly he pushed himself off the cool grass to stretched out his muscles. He sighed in relief as his back cracked in a few places. Releasing another groan as he stretched his limbs, Harry looked up to the branches above him and was startled when he saw a large black bat hanging upside down staring directly at him.

Harry had seen bats before, there were plenty underneath his school, but never has one been as close to a person as this one. He'd certainly never seen a bat stare intently at a person. How long had it been there and had it stared at Harry the whole time he rested? The young magus mentally shook his head at the absurd thought of a bat staring intently at a person.

However, to be sure, Harry took a few steps away from the tree. The bat's head followed his every move. His mouth went slack. Tentatively, Harry took a step further and his eyes bulged from its sockets when the bat crawled closer to him on the low hanging branch.

The nocturnal animal gave Harry a look that told the magus it was displeased or annoyed at him. He shook his head in disbelief. As far as Harry knew, bats didn't have the capacity to glare at a human. Yet this bat proved otherwise when it continued to glare down at him with its dark eyes. Harry didn't know whether he should be wary or intrigued.

Among the people of Diagon, bats were considered bad omens, loyal only to those that served the dark arts. That the bat had taken a sudden interest in Harry should have put the young magus at ill ease. If it were any other person they would have been mortified. His aunt, for example, was highly superstitious and would have passed out from fright.

The bat took off from its branch and circled about Harry's head before flying off into the forest. Harry shrugged off the bat's strange behavior and continued to walk up the hill. He was suddenly stopped by the same bat flying in his face making horrible screeching noises. "Argh! You crazy flying rodent!" Harry flailed his limbs, trying to deter the crazy animal from grabbing at his hair. He lost his footing, tripping over an ill-placed fallen branch, and fell onto his backside. The annoyed bat continued to make screeching noises and flew irritably around the dazed boy. Periodically the bat would fly to the tree line and back to the boy and gave a look that made Harry feel like he was back in his potions class.

He huffed irritably. "What do you want with me?"

Belatedly he felt foolish for yelling at a bat but he had no idea as to what the animal wanted with him in the first place. The irritated creature continued to fly in dizzying patterns and would occasionally dive bomb the magus.

His patience was finally spent, Harry pulled out his wand and sent stunning spells at the bat. To his utter annoyance, the bat evaded them all in a fantastic display of aerial maneuvering. Perhaps it was his imagination, but Harry swore he could see the bat making a snide face at the young magus. It swooped once more and made a tear on Harry's sleeve faster than he could react. "That's it!"

Angered and more than done with the bat's attitude, Harry chased after the flying animal straight into the darkening woods. He casted spell after spell but all missed their marks and would hit trees, rocks, or the occasional unfortunate squirrel. "Come back here!" He continued to chase the bat deeper into the woods until he could no longer see the tree line behind him. His mind was focused on only catching the bat like it was a snitch at a quidditch match.

"If only I had my broom." he muttered angrily. So focused was he on his pursuit, Harry failed to notice the dried riverbed a few meters from him until he was tumbling head over heels down the gritty slope. He landed face first onto the rocky ground and groaned. Slowly, Harry pushed himself up onto his knees and surveyed his wounds.

Thankfully, neither his wand nor glasses were broken. All Harry had were a few minor cuts and bruises; and one large bruise to his ego. He cursed angrily under his breath and wondered if the bat was having a laugh at his expense. He looked up ready to curse the bat but saw no animal in sight. Only he and the trees were present with no other animal in sight.

With the sunlight waning, Harry casted a _Lumos_ to take in his surroundings better. Even with his wand-light Harry could find no trace or sight of the bat. It was as though the animal vanished into thin air; which given the way it was acting Harry wouldn't have been too surprise. "Good riddance." He muttered darkly.

But now he found himself deep within the woods, alone, with the sun setting. " _Great, just great."_

In hindsight, Harry knew he'd let his anger get the best of him. It was always a problem he had trouble overcoming. Even Sirius had warned him the dangers of giving in to one's emotions. It how he spent time in Azkaban. And Harry tried not to let them get the best of him. Apparently, Harry needed a lot more practice if a strange bat could get him to chase it into the woods at dusk.

Ron would have had had a laugh if he saw Harry right now and Hermione would of roll her eyes, sigh exasperatedly, and mutter something about the ineptitude of boys. With the use of his wand, Harry siphoned off the dirt from his clothes and skin and repaired the tears in his sleeves. He did nothing about his cuts and bruises as he couldn't remember the proper healing charms.

Harry turned back to the direction of Little Whinging when his wand-light caught something. Whirling back quickly, Harry saw a white smooth stone resting at the foot of a tree just above the riverbed. The stone was medium in sized with an oblong shape and glowed under the charmed light emitted from Harry's wand.

His curiosity piqued, Harry climbed up the slope until he was kneeling before the tree with the stone cradled in its roots like a nest. He placed his wand down next to him, wand-light pointed at the stone, and tentatively laid a hand on the smooth looking stone. He was surprised to feel a comfortable sensation of warmth.

But the warmth confused him. Harry couldn't explain it, but he knew the warmth was like the sun on a person's back or the heat of a campfire. It was different. It emanated from the egg, but it almost felt like it was emanating from the center of Harry's chest. It didn't make any sense to the boy.

In a way, the strange sensation reminded Harry of the subtle magical presence he sometimes felt in nature. The young boy paused. It was possible, however unlikely, that the stone under his touch wasn't a stone but perhaps an egg. Yet it was an egg he'd never read about in his textbooks. And Harry certainly never felt this type of magic when he was near other eggs in a class of his.

With some reserve, Harry picked up the egg and cradled it close to his chest and marveled at the smooth texture and color. He wondered who would leave such an object deep in the woods. Surely someone must have cared for it at one point, why leave it behind? Was the egg left by mistake or had someone left behind on purpose? Would they even come back later to look for it?

Harry had no clue what type of person left behind the snowy egg, be it either a poacher or merchant; both of which Harry didn't want to get on the wrong side of. Still, he continued to study the egg with rapt attention and basked in the warmth it gave off.

The proximity of it affected Harry's own magic; the warmth Harry felt earlier from within. Like an adrenaline rush, Harry felt his magic surge through his limbs to the egg and back, mixed with the magic of the egg, in a continuous loop.

He didn't know what his magic was doing or why the egg had such an effect on him. All Harry knew was that he suddenly felt protective of the egg and didn't want to leave it behind. The magus had no knowledge as to whether he was stealing the egg or not. But it felt wrong to leave it alone in the dark woods where anything could happen to it.

With his mind made, Harry decided to keep the egg and take it back to Little Whinging. The only problem was how he was going to sneak the egg passed his relatives. Aunt Petunia hated animals, or maybe the animals hated her, and never allowed Dudley to have a pet. And Harry was willing to bet that carrying an egg of an unknown creature into the house would count as an unwanted pet.

He wasn't perturbed. He wasn't going to leave the egg, he couldn't. Harry shifted the object into one arm, wand in the other hand, and carefully made his way through the forest back to town.

As it turned out, Harry had no cause to worry. Uncle Vernon and Dudley were in the living room listening to the radio while his Aunt Petunia was in the kitchen cooking dinner. "Harry darling, is that you?"

Harry rolled his eyes and barely managed to hold in a groan. "Yes, Aunt Petunia." He droned

"Good, wash up then come back down, dinner is about ready."

"Yes, Aunt Petunia." He took the stairs two at time, ran into his guest room and slammed the door shut behind him. "Don't call me darling." he muttered.

Gingerly, he placed the egg at the center of his bed and just stared at it. His arms missed the warmth it emitted and Harry was tempted to pick the egg back up and stare at it for hours. Unfortunately, Harry didn't have that much time before he was expected at the dinner table.

Sighing heavily, Harry went to the bathroom to wash his face and hands and reluctantly went down to the dining room.

Dinner was as a painful experience, at least to Harry. Aunt Petunia would talk to him in a simpering tone as though he was a toddler. Uncle Vernon would make comments about Grunnings and, with no subtly, explain how the customers missed their "favorite worker". Dudley ignored Harry altogether.

The entire situation felt wrong. He didn't care for their love for it was as shallow and fake as their personalities. Harry knew the sole reason why the Dursleys kept in contact with his father all these years was because of his fame and status. Before the death of his parents his mother and aunt weren't on speaking terms. Years of jealousy had led his aunt to believe that his mother was nothing more than a freak. Harry had the suspicion that had he not been famous and seen as a savior to all of Diagon, his aunt and uncle would want nothing to do with him.

It certainly wouldn't surprise him. The Dursleys knew little to nothing about him, personally. All they knew of Harry was that he was the sole heir of two noble families and became famous for defeating Voldemort. They never asked what his hobbies were, which school was he was attending; Hogwarts. Or what house was he sorted into; Gryffindor. What the names of his best friends were or if he was interested in sports or was more of a scholarly student. They didn't even know his birthday! He was essentially a stranger to the Dursleys. Yet the Dursleys never hesitated to tell Harry all about themselves and their lives.

Finally, after a drawn out stilted conversation between his relatives and Harry, dinner was over and done with. After the dishes were cleared Harry made a desperate escape to his guest room. He said hurried goodnights to his relatives and closed the door before any of them could catch a glimpse of the egg. He sagged in relief and gave a soft smile at the white egg lying on his bed. Harry then changed into his night clothes and climbed into bed and moved the egg into his lap.

Harry didn't know why he was obsessed with staring at the egg or what made it so captivating to him. He sat there doing nothing but stare at the egg in his lap as the hours ticked by. He watched with avid interest when it appeared to glow while it was under moonlight. But eventually the urge to sleep was too much to ignore and reluctantly Harry placed the egg in a makeshift nest made of his clothes. He climbed back into bed and promptly fell asleep.

"Dudley, Harry, wake up! Breakfast is ready!" Aunt Petunia called out in a shrill voice.

Harry groaned groggily and hid his head under the pillows. The night went by too quickly in his opinion. Harry shot up from his bed and scrambled to the end. He rubbed away the crust from his eyes and sighed in relief. The egg was right where he left it, in the folds of his clothes.

Once he threw a few more clothes over the egg to hide it from plain sight, Harry made his way downstairs to join his relatives.

His Aunt Petunia was setting the table while Uncle Vernon sat in one of the chairs, face hidden behind the morning edition of the _Daily Prophet_. Harry greeted both his aunt and uncle and silently sat down across from his uncle. Harry would have offered to help his aunt serve the food but learned from experience that his aunt didn't like Dudley or Harry to do any chores while in the house, the smith shop was a different matter entirely.

The three family members were startled when Uncle Vernon angrily banged his fist on the kitchen table, the wood creaking horribly under his force. Uncle Vernon huffed and irritably threw the morning paper to the ground. "No good, meddlesome lizard riders." he muttered.

The statement satisfied Aunt Petunia's questioning stare and Dudley went back to staring longingly at the freshly made food.

Harry wasn't easily appeased. His uncle muttering the words "lizard riders" meant only one thing, Dragon Riders.

"Can I read the paper, if you're done with it?" he asked quickly. His uncle grunted which Harry took as a yes. The boy eagerly snatched the paper off the floor and turned to the second page; annoyingly enough Harry's upcoming birthday made the front page.

 _Last evening the Sovereign's Council and other high-ranking members said their farewells to former students, Fleur Delacour, Cedric Diggory, and Viktor Krum. All chosen are academically acclaimed honor students with Diggory and Krum being one of the best quidditch players of their schools; Hogwarts and Durmstrang respectively._

 _A truly momentous occasion, even celebrities were seen at the docks to say their farewells, including renowned singer Celestina Warbeck and the popular band, the_ Weird Sisters _._

 _The three students are the first magus Riders to be chosen in over three decades and it is a first in all of history that all three Riders were chosen from our very own country-_

"Harry darling, paper away." His aunt held her hand out for the newspaper in his hand. He reluctantly gave it to Aunt Petunia and settled into his breakfast. Dudley gave Harry a look like he was stealing all of Dudley's food. Harry fought the urge to roll his eyes, Aunt Petunia hated eye rolling.

"Don't know why you're fascinated with the lot." His uncle grumbled. "Bunch of secretive codgers if you ask me."

There were some people that believed the Riders to be an intrusive force when it came to foreign policy. His uncle was of the belief that the Riders were a fanatical cult that were legally kidnapping young adults never to be seen again. There was even a group dedicated to abolishing the treaty between the Riders and Diagon. The movement only gained momentum within the last twelve years. Just as the Slytherin Crown was added to the Sovereign's Council.

Harry wasn't one of those people. Like so many of his class, he greatly admired the Dragon Riders. He thought they had the best job in the world and on top of it they had their very own dragon to fly on! It was something Harry used to dream of when he was a young boy.

The newspaper, for once, had gotten it right. It was one of the greatest historical moments in Diagon's history. Every year two or three eggs are sent all over Alagaёsia and Haldórer from the land of the Dragon Riders. Very rarely would a magus be chosen by a Rider as their magic and the magic behind the Bond were exceedingly different. For the most part one magus would be chosen to be a Rider once in a while, sometimes two. But this year was different.

For the first time since the treaty, all three dragons chose a magus as their Rider. It made for a grand celebration in all the major cities; the likes of which haven't been seen since the end of the Civil War. Even more spectacular, one of the Riders was a schoolmate of Harry's. Harry knew Diggory in passing as one of the popular students that gotten along with nearly everyone at school; even some of the Slytherins. With the inclusion of the three newly chosen, there were a total of eleven Riders that were of magi descent.

Harry could only imagine what it would be like to be a Rider. He'd never one in person before. His father had and described the Rider as an honorable man that always kept his word.

After breakfast, Harry rushed up to the guest room and quickly changed into a new set of clothes. He knew he should have gotten washed, but was too excited to care. His father would come in an hour or so and Harry wanted to leave as soon as possible. He packed away his used clothes into his bag but stopped when he saw the egg lying on his bed. Harry nearly forgotten about the egg.

"What am I going to do with you?" he muttered. His father would more than likely accept the egg into the house and even keep it as a pet; so long as whatever it was wasn't dangerous. His aunt on the other hand would not be as forgiving. How would he explain to her that he smuggled in an egg, which possibly belonged to a person of questionable morals, and kept it for the night?

"Harry, darling, your... _father_ has arrived." Despite his current predicament, Harry smirked. It was no secret that Aunt Petunia and his dad hated one another. Their arguments were practically a local legend. His aunt once chucked a frying pan, with deadly accuracy, at his father's head.

Shaking himself from past family squabbles, the boy focused back to the problem at hand. Looking from his dirty clothes to the egg and back, he had an idea. Harry decided to take one of his dirty tunics and wrap it around the egg before carefully pushing it into his bag. It gave the bag an awkward shape but at least his aunt was none the wiser.

He eagerly ran down the stairs and into the living room. His aunt was on one side of the room. She sat at the edge of her seat, her arms were crossed tightly over her chest with thin lips. Uncle Vernon had already left for his work. On the other side was his father. Still in business clothes with bags under his eyes, his father leaned against a wall with an equally stone face.

His father was a tall man with straight black hair to his shoulders and gray eyes and usually he had a wolfish smile on his face that meant he was up to no good. There was no smile today.

Both looked in Harry's direction and Harry felt as though he was standing trial before the Court Judge. His aunt gave Harry a strain smile, one that he tentatively reciprocated. Harry walked further into the room and his Aunt Petunia stood up from her chair. She quickly approached the young magus and wrapped him in a tight hug. Reluctantly, Harry embraced the thin woman.

She leaned back at an arm's length and studied Harry's face. "Remember should you have any trouble, any at all, you are more than welcome to come stay here-"

"Harry is just fine where he is, Petunia."

Aunt Petunia pursed her lips and blew air through her nose. "Nevertheless, don't hesitate should the occasion arise, okay my darling?"

"Er, yeah...thank you." Harry fumbled awkwardly.

His aunt beamed at him and patted him gently on the cheek. She then glared at his father and said. "Be sure to look after him, _Sirius_."

"I have done so for the past twelve years, _Petunia_." His father said pointedly. "My son is in good hands." The woman gave him a look of disbelief and the older magus rolled his eyes. "Ready to go Pup?" he asked kindly.

Harry beamed at his father and had to control himself from running up to man. "Yeah dad, I'm ready." he replied. Harry said his farewell to his aunt and shouted a goodbye to his cousin upstairs.

He stood next to his father and gave him a mocked glare when the man ruffled his hair. Sirius gave Harry a quizzical look and shifted his eyes from the lumpy bag to Harry's face. His heart racing, he gave a minute shake of his head and relaxed when his father left it alone; at least for the time being.

Sirius grabbed a handful of floo powder off the nearest shelf and lead Harry into the tall fireplace. Harry gave one last grin, in what he hoped was reassuring, to his fidgeting aunt.

"Until next time, Petunia. Marauder's Den!"

The duo vanished in emerald flames.


	3. Destiny Set in Stone

Harry was beginning to wonder if keeping the egg was worth the current tension between his family.

When he first showed the white egg to his father, the man looked as though he was having one of his flashbacks to the Civil War. It took nearly the entire day to convince him into keeping the egg. And Harry had only managed thusly because of his uncle. The man came back from his excursion and, after hearing the whole debacle, pulled his father aside.

They had later returned and through a strained smile, Sirius told allowed Harry to keep the egg. He should have felt happy for his win, but instead all he felt was confusion and self-doubt. Since discovering the strange egg, his father didn't act the same.

Sometimes Harry would catch his father staring at him with such raw sadness that it filled the young magus with grief and guilt. Other times Harry would find his father in his room glaring at the egg as though it was the bane of his existence. Harry had suspicions that his father knew what kind of egg it was. He had asked him once, but his father once more attained a vacant look and his eyes watered with unshed tears. Feeling overwhelmed with remorse, Harry hugged his father tightly around the waist and hadn't dared ask him anymore questions.

Harry had never seen his father so distraught. Not since the time Harry suffered from night terrors.

Yesterday, however, Harry had had enough of the tension between him and his father. He carried the egg out to the backyard towards the woods, determined to be gone with it once and for all. The boy had made it halfway across the field before he was stopped by his father. Harry was even more confused when Sirius convinced him to keep the egg.

The man made no sense!

It was obvious his father detested the egg. Yet at the same time he wanted Harry to keep it near him. What was his purpose? Did his dad felt the need to be punished? Did he believe Harry needed to face the consequences of his actions? Was Harry being punished for attaining the egg from the woods? Harry could find no logical answer and the erratic actions of his father only further confused him.

And the more Harry questioned it, the more he grew angry at his father. It had gotten to the point where Harry had started taking his meals in the old treehouse. And that was where Harry was now. He no longer had the patience to be around his father, not when he was acting in such an irregular manner.

Lunch hour had just passed. A house-elf, Kreacher, had apparated into the room with a plate of sandwiches and fruit along with a glass of pumpkin juice. Harry was nibbling on the crusts, as he had little appetite, while reading a book, an early birthday present courtesy of Hermione, on magical defenses.

He couldn't concentrate much and he found himself rereading the same passage multiple times. The young boy groaned in frustration and tossed the book onto the round rug beneath him. He found it hard to concentrate on anything else these days. It was maddening; nothing he'd done could occupy his mind from the blasted egg or the bizarre actions of his father. It consumed his every waking thought, so much that he had nearly forgotten tomorrow was his birthday.

Harry wondered if his father would ever tell him what was troubling him so. It was obvious the egg was the source of the man's turmoil but what Harry wanted to know most was why. Unfortunately, it looked like his questions weren't going to get answered anytime soon.

He was interrupted from his thoughts at the sound of his trapdoor creaking open. More alert, Harry turned to the entrance but then slumped back into his armchair and groaned under his breath while raking a hand through his wild hair. His uncle had entered.

His uncle was a tall mam. He had shaggy brown hair, dark brown eyes, and old faded scars across his face. The man straightened himself up and gave Harry a soft grin.

"Uncle, what are you doing here?" he asked lackadaisically.

Remus raised a brow. "I need a reason to visit my own nephew?"

Harry ducked his head and flushed pink. "Er sorry, didn't mean to sound rude." He muttered quietly. His uncle looked as though he wanted to say more but instead summoned another armchair and sat directly in front of the teenager.

"We missed you at lunch today." The man inquired.

"...I wanted to eat in the treehouse." The boy murmured.

"I can see that." His uncle said tersely, brows raised. "But part of me can't help but wonder if this has anything to do with the tension between you and your father? After all, it has been awhile since you've last step foot into this old treehouse."

Harry huffed irritably. His uncle always played the negotiator on the rare occasion Harry had a disagreement with Sirius or vice versa. Both he and his father were stubborn as mules and as prideful as a hippogriff, at least his dad was. Harry would never say it out loud, Remus would lord it over his head, but he was glad his uncle was there to knock _some_ sense into him and his dad.

But not today. Harry didn't want to hear any arguments from his uncle that would sway his mind. For once, Harry wanted to be petty. He wanted to stay angry and not "see reason" by the words of his Uncle Moony. "Uncle..." Harry bellyached.

"You know what I'm going to say?"

"I have an idea." He grouched.

The man gave Harry an expectant look.

"I'm not wrong this time!" Harry cried. "I have every right to be angry this time! Dad doesn't talk to me, he's angry and moody all the time! And he _hates_ that stupid egg in my room and I don't why! I was going to toss it into the woods but he stopped me from doing that also! He doesn't make any sense, Uncle! Nothing makes sense! And nothing you say or do is going to change my mind this time, he's wrong not me!"

"I know."

"And you're going to tell me how I need to see from his- wait you know?" Harry asked incredulously. "You're not going to convince me otherwise?"

Remus frowned at his nephew. "Well don't sound too surprise."

"B-but I thought that you were going to make me see my dad's point of view, call me narrow-minded. Or something similar."

Uncle Remus sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. "Harry firstly, I'm not your Potions Professor, I'll leave the name calling to him." Harry snorted. "Secondly, while Sirius might have good reason to act such a way, it's no excuse to ignore you. Especially when I see you are just as confused and hurt as he is."

He felt the stinging in the corners of his eyes and the lump in his throat. The sudden urge to be wrapped in a pair of arms was crushing, preferably from his father. He cleared the forming lump from the pit of his throat before asking "Do you know why dad is acting like this?"

"For once, no. Whatever caused your father to act like a madman, he's keeping to himself."

"Really?" Harry asked skeptically.

Bemused Remus replied. "Sirius and I are not conjoined at the hip, Harry. Why there was once a time when I wasn't around your father for nearly half a year."

"When was that?" Harry asked incredulously.

"Around the moment the Civil War ended." Remus said painfully causing Harry to mentally wince. His uncle didn't like talking about the war either. "We're getting off topic. Whatever issues your father has with the egg, he has not felt inclined to tell me. And he has refused to speak to me about it, at all."

"Oh." The young magus muttered. "Do you know what kind of animal it is then?"

"Again, no." Harry smiled slightly at the annoyed look that crossed his uncle's face. His uncle hated not knowing something. "I've skimmed every magical creature book we own and even gotten permission to visit your boarding school's library. Until I visit there, I am at a loss as to what animal it is."

"Hermione said the same thing. She was really angry at herself for not finding the answer." Harry laughed. Hermione was much like his uncle, very scholarly and takes pride in solving whatever mystery laid before her. And much like Remus, Hermione was at a loss as to what type of animal laid the egg.

She also gave Harry a fierce tongue lashing through the two-way mirror for picking up an unknown egg from the woods and bringing it home. Harry was almost certain her mirror cracked after reaching a certain decibel.

Ron was much laxer in his response. While he too expressed some concerns about the strange egg, he really wanted to see it in person. Harry had showed both friends the egg by their enchanted mirrors. Like himself, Hermione never seen such an egg and almost thought it was a precious stone that once belonged to a traveling dwarf. But Ron swore he'd seen an egg like the one currently in Harry's room but could not recall when and where to have seen it.

Thinking Ron must have read it in passing, both boys knew otherwise, Hermione gave the youngest Gryffindor Prince "homework". He had to scour the libraries in Whitehall. And when Ron vehemently protested, Hermione gave the ginger haired boy a look that would have made their Transfiguration Professor proud. _Merlin forbid if the two ever get their act together and start courting._

"Well until then, we can only wait until it hatches. In the meantime, why don't you speak with your father?"

"What's there to say?" Harry said mulishly, crossing his arms tightly over his chest. Remus rolled his eyes skyward and muttered something about his stubbornness and his birth father.

"He'll be more apt to listen once you explain your yearning to be near the egg." Harry's posture stiffened. "Don't think I haven't notice, Pup." Harry snapped is mouth shut and groaned irritably. Nothing passed the man's eye.

"I'm not going to speak with him. He's wrong this time, not me." Harry said resolutely.

Remus outright groaned and rolled his head skyward. "Fair enough, but from this moment on you will eat all meals with us at the table. No exceptions. You're becoming a young man and I expect you to act like one, am I clear?"

"...Yes, Uncle Remus." He replied aversely. Remus gave a benign smile and bid the young magus goodbye.

Harry groaned and laid his unfinished lunch on the floor. He lost his appetite.

* * *

It was nearing midnight and Harry figured he was the only one awake in the Marauder's Den. He sat crisscrossed on his bed with the curtains pulled back to better view the nighttime sky. A first quarter moon gave soft lighting over the grassy field and Harry could spot a plethora of stars surrounding it.

He loved stars, always had a fascination for them. At one point in time, Harry wanted to be an astronomer. On his eighth birthday, his dad had bought him a telescope and the two used to spend hours atop of a makeshift platform on the roof gazing at the numerous constellations; Harry's favorite was the Howling Wolf, his dad and uncle had never been prouder.

Though his aspirations of becoming an astronomer waned over the years, his interests in stars never did. They calmed him. Sometimes, when stress began to overwhelm him, Harry would gaze at the stars and come to a sense of peace; almost like he was home. From what was told of him, Lily used to be the same way. And as such, he felt closer to his mother when stargazing.

He continued to switch his gaze from the twinkling stars to the pure white egg that captivated him for the past few days. Harry couldn't explain what was so enthralling about it. He didn't understand why he felt almost a sense of kinship with it. He didn't dare tell anyone of his strange anomaly and he wasn't sure if he should. The others, whomever he decided to tell, wouldn't understand. They would surely think he stayed too long out under the sun or hit his head against a tree or the like.

Harry would have told his father, but at the two had only tentatively formed a truce over dinner. He didn't want to upset him anymore with the mentioning of the egg. For now, at least, the topic would be left alone.

Looking down, the young magus smiled softly and gently rubbed the smooth surface. He checked his wristwatch and noticed it was five 'til midnight; his birthday. It had become a tradition to him. Every year, Harry would stay up until midnight for his birthday gazing at the stars. And when he learned that his mother used to stargaze, it became more meaningful. He liked to think he was sharing a private moment with his late-mother. That wherever she was, she was watching over him, wishing him a happy birthday.

Harry checked his watch once more and saw that there were only ten seconds left until midnight. "Almost time." He whispered. He quietly counted down as the hand move closer to the twelve. "Seven, six, five, four, three, two, one, happy birthday Harry." He smiled and he swore he could almost hear his mother whisper him a happy birthday as well.

Harry looked up to the stars one more time before yawning. Figuring it was time for bed, he lifted the egg from his lap. He dropped it onto the duvet. His body froze, and his heartrate increased rapidly. Harry could have sworn the egg jolted. For a few moments his green eyes never left the egg lying amongst his sheets. Nothing further had happened.

He released a huge sigh of relief and wrote it off as his imagin-

It happened again! Staring incredulously, Harry lifted his glasses off the bridge of his nose and frantically rubbed at his eyes. He stared down at the egg in a stupor. His heart thundered in his chest, his breaths became shallow and Harry felt his stomach twist in knots.

 _Is it going to hatch?_ The boy thought excitingly.

Tentatively, Harry leaned closer to the egg and pressed his left ear against the warm surface. He thought he heard something shuffle but couldn't decide whether it was a play of his imagination or not. "H-Hello?" he whispered.

The magus nearly shrieked when the egg moved earnestly and he heard something clawing at the inside of its shell. "It's... reacting to my voice!" Harry said in awe. The egg stilled once more. "Oh don't give up now!"

Once more the egg moved with abandoned and nearly rolled off Harry's bed. Hairline cracks began to appear as the sound of the shell cracking filled the room. He was in a stupor, Harry didn't even think to call for his father and uncle. Larger cracks spread across the egg like lightning flashes across the sky and small chips of eggshells began to fall on top of his bedspread. "C'mon, you can do it." He urged.

The animal continued to make more cracks and larger pieces began to fall off. Harry saw a scaly white foot, then what looked to be a tail, and if he had to guess, "A wing?" The bottom half of the egg finally gave way and shattered into a dozen pieces and what was left of the egg rolled to the side.

Comically, the lower quarters of the animal stuck out and Harry saw a scaly tail with an arrowhead tip wag to and forth. He snorted into his hands and his eyes shined with mirth. "C'mon, you're almost done." He laughed out. He nearly lost it when he heard the animal huff but then covered his face when eggshells flew at him.

Still unsure, Harry waited until there were no more sounds of the animal hatching. And even then, he still hid behind his hands. It wasn't until he felt something crawl into his lap and sniff at his hands that he reluctantly removed them from his face. He gasped, startled, and reared back when he came face to face with a pair of amber colored eyes. At the same time the animal gave a startled yip and leapt from his lap altogether.

Harry sat there, completely bewildered. The animal at the foot of his bed was no bigger than a common housecat. It was the same pure white color as its shell and almost glowed underneath the soft moonlight. From the crown of its head, to the bottom of its feet, it was covered in scales; apart from the bat-like wings.

"Whoa..." He breathed out. Harry didn't dare close his eyes, fearing it would only be a dream. Standing before him was a dragon.

 _The egg was a dragon egg, I had a dragon egg, there's a dragon in my room!_

The dragon appeared to have forgotten Harry's presence as it became fascinated with its tail and tried to snatch it like a dog. Without pause, Harry laughed. It reminded him of when his father became Padfoot and spent the better part of the hour chasing his own tail. His uncle rolled his eyes and muttered archly "If not a woman's, then his own."

Harry's laughter stilled under the attention of the hatchling. Harry paused and wearily watched the young dragon. Amber stared into emerald. The magus almost felt as though he was being studied. If not for his awareness of the intelligence of dragons, Harry would have dismissed such a notion. He didn't dare to blink and waited for the dragon to make the first move; his instincts telling him so.

Slowly, cautiously, the hatchling crawled across the bed until it sat before Harry. It made a soft crooning noise that made the boy smile. Slightly hesitant, Harry raised his right hand; deliberately so as not to startle the hatchling. The little dragon stared wearily between the outstretched hand and Harry's eyes. "It's alright, I won't hurt you." He placated the baby dragon.

The dragon studied the hand for a few moments. Harry held himself still, not even daring himself to breath. Gently, the animal nuzzled into the palm of his hand. He was shocked at how rough the scales had felt. The dragon gave a contented purr and Harry couldn't stop the grin forming on his face. It wasn't everyday a dragon nuzzled into your hand and purred.

Harry gasped in alarm, a flash of bright light and a feeling akin to cold water rushed through him. He gasped heavily for breath and felt a foreign of emotions bombard him. It staggered him; he had never felt such joy and happiness come from something. There were other emotions that came with and there were even glimpses of himself but from another point of view. It took Harry a few moments to realize the foreign presence was that of another mind, a mind belonging to the dragon, _his_ dragon.

Mouth agape in disbelief, Harry raised his trembling hand to eye level. There, diffused into the palm of his hand, was a spiral oval marking of silver. He stared at the brand, then at the dragon. And all he could feel was a sense of horror.

"What did you do?" He whispered. The corners of his eyes burned and his chest grew taut. "What did you do?!" The dragon yipped and tripped over its own legs.

Its actions spurred Harry into motion; he leapt off his bed and ran across the room. He halted halfway and became overcome with fright, confusion, and sorrow. Emotions that were not his own, Harry turned furiously at the newborn. "Stop messing with me!"

He ran to the door, pulled it opened and cried in frustration at the same time the dragon gave a mournful yowl. The same emotions returned tenfold and Harry collapsed onto his knees, crippled by grief. He looked over his shoulder once more and saw the small dragon trying with all of its might to climb off the bed.

The young boy was stricken with anguish and guilt. He wanted to run, run far away. Away from the dragon, away from the shining palm, run back in time to before he found the stupid egg. But his compassionate side would not yield. His thoughts strayed to the young dragon, new to the world, tentatively trusting him only to be abandoned immediately after.

Tears blurred his vision and his nose was stuffed with snot. Growling in resignation, or despair, Harry walked back to his bed. The dragon scampered away from the boy and curled into a protective ball. Guilt pooled and dropped like lead in the pit of his stomach. "I'm sorry." He croaked. He raised the same hand that the dragon marked and faced it towards the dragon.

Feelings of fear and hesitation emitted from the hatchling. " _I'm sorry_." Harry pleaded. Not sure how or if it was instinctive, Harry sent soothing feelings through the fragile bond to the dragon. He continued to do so until he felt a sense of hope come from the white hatchling.

Once more, the dragon crawled over to Harry's awaiting hand. It came to Harry's hand once more and this time Harry picked up the dragon and brought it close to his chest. Startled at first, the dragon quickly calmed and released feelings of contentment, safety, security. Things Harry himself didn't feel.

Despite regaining the trust of his dragon back, Harry was still conflicted. He knew, from this moment onward, his life would be different drastically. The future he thought he was going to have was gone, forever. And Harry was at a lost on what to do. "Why?" Came a broken whisper. "Why did you choose me?"

The dragon held his gaze once more and Harry felt the same feeling of hope pass through their bond. He gave it a watery smile and wiped the tears from his eyes.

"That doesn't really answer my question."

"Harry?"

Both the dragon and Harry snapped their heads to the doorway. Harry felt his stomach dropped to the soles of his feet and the dragon burrowed further into Harry, not sure what to make of him.

"Dad..." The man took one look upon the dragon then back at distraught magus and smiled desolately at his son, watery eyes glinted in the moonlight.

A floodgate of emotions erupted and rivulets of burning tears rolled down his flushed cheeks. Within the first set of sniffles and hiccups Sirius ran into the room and gathered Harry, and the dragon he was holding, into his arms and rocked him back and forth. "D-dad, I-I…I-"

"Shh, I know Harry, I know." Calloused fingers carded through wild tufts of hair in a soothing manner.

"D-did you know...the egg?" Harry whispered.

"...yes."

He gasped and stared at his father with red-rimmed eyes. "B-but...you let me keep it. W-why?"

The man was silent, staring pensively out the window. He looked back down to his son with a frown on his face. "I honestly don't know."

"I-I'm scared." The boy whispered. Harry looked down to his now sleeping dragon and couldn't control the feelings of affection burst from him. Neither could he control the feelings of fear that plagued at the back of his mind. "I…I don't think I want to be a Rider. I-I don't want to leave you." He confessed.

"It'll be okay, son. You're not leaving, not tonight. It's only me and you right now, okay?" Harry nodded mutedly against his father's chest.

The two continued to console one another long into the early morning until they fell asleep atop of Harry's bed.

It would be hours before Remus would find father and son clung securely to one another in sleep.


	4. Doubts of the Fourth Rider

To Harry's luck, or lack thereof, the dragon was an early riser. Once the sun peeked over the horizon, the little dragon was up and would bother the sleeping boy until he was out of bed. Unfortunately for him, Harry wasn't much of a morning person. Not even the three years practicing under his old quidditch captain was enough for Harry to acclimate to early mornings; if anything, it made it worse.

Try as he might, Harry couldn't get his dragon to sleep pass sunrise and so Harry was up before either his father and uncle.

Two weeks had passed since the snowy dragon hatched from her egg. It astonished Harry by how quickly he'd gotten use to her presence in his mind. He couldn't see how he lived this long without her. Despite his initial diffidence, the magus had quickly become accustomed to having another presence in his mind. It was never ending. All throughout the day, Harry would catch glimpses of what his dragon saw that roused her curiosity. He would feel her emotions when they were strong like when she first saw butterflies; an abundance of excitement and joy.

The two were never far apart from one another. Where one went the other was sure to follow. It was like Harry grew another shadow. Dobby, the house-elf, often called Harry's dragon, "Harry's Light"; as opposed to shadow or dark since the dragon had white scales. It wasn't the most creative of names, but Dobby seemed so proud of himself that Harry didn't have the heart to tell him otherwise. Kreacher on the other hand had no such conniption.

Unlike Dobby, the grouchy house-elf didn't like having a dragon in the house; not that Harry or anyone could really blame him. When he thought no one was looking, the elf would look at the baby dragon like she was a mess he couldn't clean. The feeling was mutual, she didn't much care for the grumpy house-elf. She'd bare her teeth, already needlepoint sharp, whenever the two were in the same room and Kreacher would mutter expletives to the dragon.

It could be worse. They could be attacking one another. Of course this was after Harry forbade the dragon from pouncing on Kreacher and Sirius forbidding Kreacher from using magic to harm the dragon. The two had a very tense and peculiar relationship.

When asked why he hated Harry's dragon Kreacher said one sentence. "Dragon taints the house of Black." Harry didn't know what Kreacher meant by that. But his father did if the annoyed groan and muttering "not this again" were anything to go by.

But besides the strange animosity between Kreacher and the dragon, Harry couldn't have been happier to have her in his life.

There were of course some drawbacks. Harry no longer had any real sense of privacy, especially when he's in the bathroom. Her curiosity knew no bounds and there was one incident where she barged into the bathroom while it was occupied. His father was in it at the time and emitted a girlish squeak; no matter how passionate the man would later deny.

Speaking of family, ever since his dragon hatched Harry was visited nonstop by close relatives and friends. Earlier in the week, the Tonks had cut their vacation short and flooed directly to Marauder's Den. After some reservations, the dragon eventually warmed up to his older cousin, a young woman that went by Tonks, and was easily entertained by Tonks' color changing hair. Another day, Professor McGonagall had appeared on the doorsteps with a wane smile and blotchy red eyes. At the first sight of Harry, the woman pulled the boy into a crushing hug that rivaled even the Gryffindor Queen's. Harry had never seen the woman cry before. And it was only then that Harry truly grasped how much the professor cared for him.

Then lastly there were his two best friends. Like his father and uncle, Hermione and Ron were by his side as much as possible. The youngest prince was even given a reprieve from his summer studies and had spent the past few days at the Den. Hermione had visited daily since she came back from visiting distant relatives.

It took a few visits for the snowy dragon to become accustom to his best friends but eventually she could at least tolerate their presence. Harry had the sense that it was as close of a bond they were ever going to get.

The dragon also had a complicated relationship with Harry's guardians. Like Ron and Hermione, the dragon only tolerated their presence and would watch them warily whenever they were in the same room as her. But because both his father and uncle were types of shapeshifters, his dragon got along more with his father and Uncle Remus when they were in their dog and wolf form respectively. Harry once caught his dragon and father playing tag around the house and ended up bowling Kreacher over when they ran through the kitchen. The young magus never heard some of the profanities the diminutive being used. And he was friends with Ron.

The only family members that had not visited the Den were the Dursleys. Only because none of his maternal relatives were made aware of Harry's new position. His father didn't trust them to keep it a secret from the world, Harry didn't either. While the Dursleys would no doubt cut ties from Harry once they were in know, it wouldn't deter them to spread the news to the papers to obtain small fame. The last thing Harry wanted was his hometown being swamped by reporters. Or nobles seeking to form alliances with the House of Black and Potter for the sole reason of raising their social standing.

For now, Harry wanted to push back the inevitable. He wanted to have a few more days of normalcy before all Diagon became a tizzy from discovering a fourth magus Rider. The only ones that knew outside of the family was the Sovereign's Council and they were sworn to secrecy until Harry started his journey to the Rider's homeland How they managed to get Prime Minister Fudge to agree was beyond him. Any day now a Rider would arrive at their doorstep and escort him all the way to Lynden for a grand feast and other garish ceremonies. It would be the last time Harry would see his friends and relatives for a while. How long has yet to be determined.

"Harry, are you alright?"

The boy was shaken from his thoughts by the concerned tone in Hermione's voice. He looked over to his right to see a young girl with bushy brown hair and a concerned frown on her face. She marked the page of her book and sat it down on the wooden porch.

"W-what?"

"Mate, you've been quiet for nearly ten minutes." Ron said from his left.

"Oh." Harry mumbled dumbly. "I was thinking about the Riders."

Hermione frowned and Ron replied with his own "Oh".

The three Gryffindor students were seated on the back porch under the overhanging roof. Earlier Harry and Ron were flying on broomsticks passing the quaffle back and forth while Hermione watched. They managed to convince her to play one round. But with the sun high in the sky, the trio decided to lounge on the porch and simply talk.

Meanwhile Harry's dragon was playing a variation of tag with the resident garden gnomes. Oddly, the gnomes had taken a liking to the young dragon. He could feel the gleeful excitement thrum through their bond. In many ways, she was like a child.

His lips spread to a small smile and watched as the white dragon finally tackled one of the gnomes. Sunlight refracted off her lustrous scales and gave her the illusion of glowing.

"She's beautiful." Hermione complimented.

Harry snorted. "Don't let her hear you say that, she's already vain enough. I keep finding her in front of my mirror."

Ron laughed. "You have my sympathies, mate. When Charlie first moved to the dragon sanctuary, he told us how prideful and ferocious the females were. He even showed us the number of scars and burn wounds he got. Mom nearly fainted." Harry's face paled and Hermione sent the other boy a fierce look over Harry's shoulder. "Oh, um, but you shouldn't worry. Your dragon is bonded to you, so it's not like she'll burn you. Unless you piss her off, or-"

"Have you got a name for her?" Ron flushed and grinned sheepishly at his distraught friend. Harry, with a small tinge of apprehension, looked over just as his dragon caught a squirrel with her serrated teeth. She was rather pleased with herself. He gulped nervously.

"I didn't name her." He said. "Not really. I read her a list of names from one of my old history books. She liked the name Hedwig, so that's what I'm calling her."

"Can she speak yet?"

"She only knows a few words. My name, my dad's and uncle's and her own. She knows what grass, tree, and stars are though. I mostly have to show her images from my mind to her and tell her what the word is."

Ron looked at Harry as though he'd grown another head. "How do you that?"

Harry chuckled. "I have no idea. Instinct maybe?"

Hermione smirked. "Maybe." The trio lapsed into comfortable silence and enjoyed the light breeze that rustled the leaves in the trees and had Hedwig scurrying to Harry's side as she had yet to experience wind. Safely curled up in his lap, the white dragon drifted off to sleep. He smiled softly at the small dragon.

"She's grown you know." Harry looked over to Hermione. "When she first hatched, she was no bigger than a housecat. Now she's the size of a medium dog. Pretty soon she won't be able to sleep in my lap." He chuckled.

Ron snorted while Hermione gave Harry a grim smile. His chuckling died down and a frown marred his face. Hermione's eyes started to water, and her smile faltered. "Hermione, what's wrong?"

Sniffling, Hermione rubbed her eyes with her sleeve. "Nothing, I'm being ridiculous."

"Hemione." Harry stared evenly at the depressed girl. She gazed downward then sighed heavily.

"You've not left yet and I already miss you." She wiped away a stray tear. "It's silly, I know."

Harry disagreed. It was how he felt the moment Hedwig bonded with him. He clung to his father desperately like he was a little boy with a nightmare. The last two weeks Harry tried very hard to commit everything to memory. From the apple trees across the road to the burbling brook in the woods behind the grassy yard. When he could, Harry would walk around his hometown just to watch the people go about their daily lives. He wanted to remember everything he loved about Godric's Hollow.

"I don't think you're silly. It's…it's a lot to take in."

"You know it's going to be weird going to school without you."

Harry snorted. "Maybe you'll finally have a normal school year."

Ron and Hermione looked to one another and answered simultaneously.

"Yeah right."

"Doubt it."

The Rider rolled his eyes.

Sighing, Hermione rested her head on Harry's shoulder and Ron clapped his hand on the other. "Promise you'll talk to us often. I want to know everything there is to know about the land of the Riders, especially their library."

"Ever the scholar, this one." Ron muttered playfully. Hermione cuffed him at the back of his head.

Harry chuckled. "I don't think I'll be allowed to tell you what they have in their library."

Hermione huffed. "Well at least keep us up to date. I will rest easier knowing you weren't knocked around by a dragon." Still laughing, Harry agreed.

Once more they lapse back into silence, enjoying one another's company. The past week, the three of them had done nearly all possible activities together. They've raced on brooms, reluctantly on Hermione's part, swam in the river, spent a night in the old treehouse. They've even gone to a fair in the next town over. But there was still so much they wanted to do. But exhaustion and lack of time prevented them from doing so. In the end, the trio contended themselves to just being in one another's company.

So, as they always did in their downtimes, Hermione continued to read her textbook and Ron and Harry played wizard's chess. Hedwig had finally tired herself out and curled between Harry and Hermione and nodded back to sleep.

The young Rider relished in the simple tranquility. The warm breeze ruffling his hair, the look of satisfaction as Ron won another game, How Hermione's nose scrunched and her eyes brightened when she read new information. Even the light dozing of Hedwig brought Harry a sense of calm.

He sometimes caught glimpses of her dreams, mostly of her flying with him on her back. And Harry could honestly say he was looking forward to the day Hedwig was big enough to ride on.

Harry and Ron continued to play chess as the day slowly passed by. He had managed to check Ron with a rook when the back door opened. Footsteps against the deck awoke the snowy dragon and brought Hermione out of her book.

The three students looked as Harry's uncle walked up to the trio. His face was solemn before he plastered a fake smile on his face. Harry's stomach plummeted, his face became pale and he could feel his legs shaking uncontrollably. "Uncle?"

"He's here, Harry…the Rider." Uncle Remus answered heavily. "He wants to meet you."

The trio traded worried glances with one another. Hermione was on the verge of tears and Ron's face turned pallor. Still shaking with anxiety, Harry pushed himself onto his feet. Sensing his uneasiness, Hedwig yipped at the young Rider-to-be and rubbed against his leg in reassurance.

Mumbling a "Thanks, Hedwig" Harry looked to his friends and tried to put on a brace face. Hermione saw threw it and pulled both Harry and Ron into bone crushing hugs. He heard sniffling and felt warm tears at the collar of his tunic. His two friends drew back from the group hug and Harry was surprised to see Ron teary eyed. The corner of Harry's eyes stung, the urge to cry again was nearly impossible to ignore.

Uncle Remus clapped a hand on Harry's shoulder. "Come pup." He spoke hoarsely.

Harry took a deep breath and was led back into the cottage, Hedwig faithfully shadowing him. His uncle steered him towards the living room and the young boy heard the familiar voice of his father and the unfamiliar voice of another man.

The uncle and nephew stopped at the edge of the room, watching the two men exchange words in hushed tones. The unknown man appeared to be the same age as his father; but it was possible that they were far older than that. He didn't look how Harry imagined a Rider was supposed to look like. The clothes he wore were worn and rumpled; traveling clothes no doubt. A muted colored sack hanged on his should and his hair surprisingly long hair was pulled back from his face. From his angle Harry could see the scabbard hanging off his belt. A large red ruby set into the hilt was hard to ignore. A legendary sword of a Rider, no doubt.

His father saw him first, his worried eyes flickered to the boy out of his peripheral. The tension around his frame laxed minutely. The stranger, ever observant, looked over his shoulder and Harry went rigid. The eye contact was brief, but there was no mistaking the power behind those eyes. It was no wonder people were often hesitant to look a Rider full face in the eyes.

"Harry, come. There's someone I'd like you to meet." His legs refused to move, he felt petrified. Terrified even, and in a state of denial. Any closer and Harry's hopes of this being nothing but a dream would be shattered.

Unaware, or probably because, of Harry's inner turmoil, Uncle Remus gently nudged the boy into the main room with the other men. Sensing the tension and the turmoil of her Rider, Hedwig followed cautiously baring her teeth at the stranger.

Unfortunately for her, it didn't have the desired effect, the Rider merely smiled paternally. The searing flash of anger made Harry flinch. _Behave._

She ignored him.

Finally standing next to his father side, Harry hesitantly looked up at the Rider. He certainly was tall, with twinkling blue eyes and a kindly smile. Eyes wide and jaw slack, Harry easily recognized the Rider before him. How could he not, when he had seven chocolate frog cards of the man.

"Y-you're Albus Dumbledore!" Ron and Hermione gasped followed by a muttered curse that had the youngest Gryffindor Prince being swat in the arm.

"Indeed I am." Dumbledore chuckled "And judging by the dragon growling next to you, you must be our newest Rider."

Mortified, Harry hushed at his snarling dragon and sent an image of her sleeping next to Kreacher if she didn't behave. While still glaring murderously at the Rider, and now Harry, Hedwig stopped growling.

Dumbledore was still chuckling good naturedly. "It is alright, Mr. Potter, I've encountered my fair share of temperamental dragons. Comes with the job."

Right, because Dumbledore was a Rider. _Just like me._

"Why don't we all sit down and relax. I'll have Kreacher and Dobby bring us some tea and snacks." Said Uncle Remus.

Harry sat next to his father on the large settee, Hedwig curled protectively about his feet. Ron and Hermione managed to fit on one of the armchairs. Rather than taking the last one for himself, Dumbledore conjured a throne-like chair with a wave of his hand.

 _He can do wandless magic!_ Harry stared incredulously at his two, equally surprised, friends.

Remus returned with two platters floating gingerly behind.

Tea was sipped, snacks nibbled, or scarfed in Ron's case, and idle conversation traded between them all.

It would have been a calming afternoon any other time. But there was no denying the tautness in the air, there was no addressing it either. The shoulder muscles on Sirius were still coiled even though he laid back against the settee, Remus sat on the edge of his seat, and Dumbledore…well he was certainly difficult to gauge. Having only just met him, but Harry suspected the Rider wasn't as eased has he appeared.

Never one for patience or subtly, he was a Gryffindor after all, Harry took the stunner. "What's going to happen to me and Hedwig?"

His father tensed further, if that was possible, while Dumbledore gazed unwaveringly at the boy. "I suppose now would be the time to get to the heart of the matter."

The Rider moved to the edge of his seat, Harry squirmed in his but didn't take his eyes away from the immortal.

"Tell me Mr. Potter, how did you come about the dragon egg?"

"W-what?" he stuttered. "Is that really important?"

Dumbledore's gazed somberly into Harry's eyes. He fought hard not to squirm in his seat. "Indeed, it is. Let me explain, in the last five hundred years, dragon eggs have been closely monitored in both Haldórer and Alagaёsia. All are heavily guarded in both the sanctuaries and the home of the Riders. Never has an egg left either places unless it's by a Rider or a dragonologist.

"There were no requests made or authorizations given for any eggs to be moved since the choosing of the three Riders."

"Are you implying that my son somehow managed to steal a dragon egg?" his father asked evenly.

"No, I will not besmirch the honor and reputation of the House of Black."

"I didn't steal it." Harry retorted. "I found it, out in the woods just beyond Little Whinging."

"Little Whinging?"

"A muggle town, not far from Lynden." Answered Remus. "He has relatives there."

"Was the egg far into the forest?"

"Not really, I could still see the edge when I fell down a dried riverbank and found the egg."

"And what led you into the forest in the first place." Dumbledore furthered inquired.

Harry's heart started racing and fought to keep the panic from crossing his face. He hadn't told anyone, not even his father, of the strange bat that led him to the egg. Bats were almost as bad as an omen as the Grim and thestrals. And by the behavior of the one Harry encountered, it wasn't a normal bat by any means. Either it was trained, or it was bewitched. Neither options were comforting.

It was bad enough Harry was already an anomaly, due to his scar. He didn't want to make it worse with the story of the crazy bat, the rumors had only just died down that Harry was a dark wizard after the whole Chamber of Secretes incident.

"I felt something calling me, into the woods." He mumbled. Dumbledore didn't look convinced, neither did his father. The look Dumbledore gave Harry was, once again, hard to decipher. The look Sirius gave him was all too familiar, they would discuss it later when it was just the two of them.

"Do you still believe my son to be a thief, Dumbledore."

"Be at ease, Sirius. I meant no disrespect. But you must admit, that the situation regarding your son is abnormal."

 _Seems to be the theme of my life._

"Of course, it's not every day a Rider comes to a home and whisks away a young boy." Sirius drawled. Harry stared at his father. He knew that tone, rarely heard it, but recognized it all the same. Sirius was furious and even more astounding; his ire was directed at the Rider!

"Sirius." Uncle Remus called out in warning.

"Do you two know each other?" Hermione asked

Exhaling deeply through his nose, the young lord answered. "During the Civil War, Dumbledore was an ally to Diagon. We've become well acquainted."

"Yes," he sighed then turned back to Harry. "I even knew of your birth parents-

"That's far enough!" the Trio jumped. "Don't bring James and Lily into this."

The twinkle in his eyes dimmed. "My apologies, Sirius."

The room lapsed into awkward silence, no one knowing what to say. Harry just wanted to get out of the room, go back to the back porch with his friends and dragon to enjoy the last of the sun.

"When does Harry leave?" Hermione asked, Sirius released a shuddering breath.

"Mr. Potter will accompany me at first light tomorrow."

That soon, this would be the last night he would see his family for a while and it was being wasted on stilted conversation between them and a known stranger. "Are you that eager to take my son from me?"

"Sirius. You know as well as I do, that this is not my choosing. It is our laws and regardless of the unusual circumstances, your son is now a Rider."

"Stop speaking like I'm not here! What are you talking about?"

"Riders have a law regarding their apprentices. In Diagon, only one that has reached the age of seventeen can be chosen. They are then taken from their homes and families to live amongst other Riders."

"I know that, but what is making you so upset with Dumbledore?"

"Riders are not allowed to have contact with their families until after the completion of their training and the success of their first few missions." Answered Dumbledore.

"No contact? Not even a letter, or a two-way mirror?" Harry asked incredulously.

"None. Contact with the outside world is not only forbidden, but impossible."

"And how long does this training take?" asked Hermione.

"On average, ten years."

"Ten years!" the three Gryffindors cried. "You expect me not to have any contact with my family and friends for at least ten years?"

"I'm afraid so. There is more to be a Dragon Rider than owning a sword and having a dragon for a companion. And as you grow, so too will your powers. You will be more powerful than ever, and untrained, you will be dangerous."

"Why not train him here, then? Harry's not seventeen yet, so shouldn't he be allowed to stay with his dad?"

"Unfortunately, Prince Ronald, Potter cannot stay here and be trained. There are many things he must learn and he will need multiple masters. Besides most, if not all, are secrets highly guarded by the Order and it would be a breach of secrecy to teach any such subject outside our land."

"But ten years, at least? And I can't contact my friends or leave the land of the Riders? If that what I should do, then I won't go with you. I won't be a Rider!" Harry shouted.

"Mr. Potter…Harry I know this is difficult for you. It certainly was when I was your age."

"You weren't fourteen still going to Hogwarts, though weren't you? You were seventeen, legally an adult. It's not really the same. Besides, Hedwig and I can handle our powers just fine."

"Harry." Sirius rested a hand on the boy's shoulder and gently pushed him down to sit.

"Dad?" His eyes were wet, and his face looked resigned. Harry's stomach felt laden with lead.

"I don't like this situation any more than you do…you have to go with Dumbledore."

"What? No, I don't! And I don't want to! I didn't ask for this. It's not my fault I found Hedwig randomly in the woods."

"It wasn't random." Dumbledore said gravely. "As a I said before, dragon eggs are closely guarded by the Order. For you to find one on the outskirts of a muggle town after being compelled to enter the woods means we are dealing with a powerful adversary. For not only did this person steal an egg from under us, but managed to find the right bond between you and your dragon.

"For reasons not yet known, you hold a special interest to this person. And until we can determine the motives, you and Hedwig are not safe. And if you stay here any longer, neither will your friends and family."

Harry felt he was going to be sick, once again his life was in danger. Only now he wasn't even at school. It was possible the person or persons were watching him when Harry took the egg. They were probably watching him now, just beyond the wards of Marauder's Den.

The looks on Ron's and Hermione's faces told Harry they were thinking the same thing. Through the Bond, Hedwig's emotions swirled into his own. She was wary and distrusting of the other Rider. More than that, Hedwig was threatened. But by what or whom was undetermined, even by the dragon. It was almost instinctual.

The boy read somewhere that dragons retain some awareness of their surroundings while still in the egg. Was it possible she remembered the one that had her before Harry?

He didn't like the situation he found himself in. It wasn't fair, Harry didn't want to leave his father, uncle, and all the friends he made over the years; especially Ron and Hermione. But he didn't want any of them to be in danger because he was being selfish.

Others would think he was being paranoid. But after three years of his life being threatened by dark forces, Harry had the right to be paranoid. And if a Rider, a formidable one, was weary of a mysterious foe, what chance

"Fine." Harry muttered. "Hedwig and I will go with you."

Dumbledore sighed in relief. "Thank you. Now before I take my leave, there is another matter we need to discuss."

"The ceremony." Uncle Remus interjected.

"There won't be a ceremony."

Uncle Remus and Hermione responded with a "Why?" while Sirius, Ron, and Harry responded with "Thank Merlin."

Bemused, Dumbledore responded. "The Order and the Sovereign's Council agreed it to being everyone's greater interest, that the world not know of a fourth Rider hailing from Diagon. At least, not at this moment."

"Then where are you taking my son? If you managed to get the entire Council to keep his bonding under wraps, especially Prime Minister Fudge, then I assume traveling to the capital is out of the question."

"We will trek to a deserted embankment of Temese River where we will be met by merchant sailors traveling from the north."

Harry got the sense that there was more to the Professor's words than he let on. "Now, I believe I've overstayed my welcome for the time being. I shall be back to collect young Mr. Potter come dawn."

Dumbledore banished the armchair from existence, bade the men and children a farewell and walked to the front door. Stopping for only a moment, Dumbledore settled his blue eyes one last time on Harry's father and said, "He sends his regards." The Rider disapparated with a quiet pop.

After Dumbledore's departure Ron and Hermione were sent back to their homes, an excruciating experience between the trio. Hermione was on the verge of tears and Ron and Harry were fairing no better. It would be a while before he saw either of them. But Harry silently resolved to not only try and contact them but see them as well. He was not going to go ten years without his best friends.

By then they would be complete strangers. Harry was not going to let that happen.

Dinner between the three of them was a silent affair. Thankfully it wasn't awkward, but the tension from earlier still lingered. His father looked like he could use a shot of firewhisky, and his uncle was no better. Not how he wanted to spend the last night, for the foreseeable future, with his father and uncle.

The silence was unbearable. The young boy had many questions. But the one that bothered him the most was the last comment made by the tall Rider. His father knew someone, on a more personal level, from the Order. It was obvious the last time his father saw the person had been the day a Rider took him for training. And since Harry lived with his father since he was a little over two years old, it was safe to say the person had left before Harry moved in with his father.

His father hadn't seen the man for over fourteen years. His melancholy behavior of the past few weeks now made sense to the boy. His father had experienced the painful separation before, and was now having to do so again with his own son. It was a wonder how Sirius didn't banish Hedwig when she was still an egg back into the woods.

Harry could have questioned his father and uncle the mysterious identity of this man. Demanded why it was kept a secret from him for so long. Even argue why Sirius was letting Harry go without much of a fight. He wanted to, desperately so. If only to satisfy is never ending curiosity.

But what would that get him, only more uncomfortable conversation and jaded emotions. Harry wasn't going to spend his last night with his uncle and father. Not with this Rider business looming over their heads.

With that in mind, Harry swallowed his curiosity, Hermione would've been so proud, set his fork down and asked one simple question. "Can we play exploding snap after desert?"

The smile his father gave was brighter than a patronus.


	5. The Seekers of Knowledge

AN: Hey everyone, sorry this is a little later, in time, than when I normally update. It's raining where I live and suddenly everybody forgot how to drive. This chapter has given me hell. For whatever reason it would not save and I had to keep rewriting it. Then the laptop restarted itself before I had the chance to save my work forcing me to rewrite again (just my luck). I think I've written this chapter six times now. Anyway enough of me whining, here's the chapter and I hope you enjoy it!

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Rider, dragon, and student traveled in companionable silence since the break of dawn on horseback. Godric's Hollow was far in the distance behind them and they had just passed through a town called Mould-on-the-Wold. With Dumbledore disguising both himself and Harry and turning Hedwig invisible with a _Disillusionment Charm_ , an experience she despised, they stopped for a rich lunch without being recognized.

At the start of their travels Rider Dumbledore had made it explicitly clear that no one can recognize him. Secrecy, apparently, was of the utmost importance. So much so, that Dumbledore and Harry had changed their disguises after leaving town and reapplied the charm onto Hedwig. The look she gave Dumbledore made Harry fear the day she could breathe fire.

The travelers didn't stop for the rest of the day. They saw no other traveler and Dumbledore made the conscious effort to avoid roadways that led to another town and further into the wilderness. The Rider wanted to cover as much terrain as possible before nightfall. Temese River was three days away. And even then, there was still traveling upstream to a preselected destination.

Had they been traveling to Lynden an extra day would have been added to their trip. Harry suppose he was lucky his hometown was relatively close to the capital in comparison to the northern counties Krum had traveled from.

That didn't mean he was enjoying the travels. He was used to traveling by floo powder to the capital or, at the very least, flying. They couldn't very well travel by floo powder with a dragon. And dragons considered it to be a great insult on their character if they rode on the back of a flying animal before they could fly themselves. The last bit Harry recently learned after Dumbledore heard him grumbling about the long trip.

At least it wasn't hot thanks to the wooded area. And they had yet to run into a group of bandits; Harry prayed he didn't jinx himself.

Despite distracting himself with the scenery and the one-sided conversation with his dragon, Harry's mind kept wandering back to his father and uncle. He supposed it was natural, he'd only just left and Harry didn't even want to think about not seeing them for a decade. This past morning was devastating and Harry wanted nothing more than to tell the Rider off and learn on his own terms.

He wasn't ready yet to leave everything he knew for a foreign land no outsider was ever privy to enter. To be honest, Harry didn't think he would have been ready even at seventeen.

His only semblance was that Hedwig was traveling with him. She had already held a special place in his heart, and to see a life without her was unthinkable; even if she had egotistical tendencies.

Hedwig sent him another image of Dumbledore's speculative looks from his peripheral. Harry carefully kept his face blank. He didn't want to alert the man to his dark mood and be under further investigation. Periodically throughout day, Rider Dumbledore would look at Harry with either curiosity, apprehension, or a mixture of both. The man was subtler in his looks and had it not been for Hedwig, Harry was certain he wouldn't have been aware otherwise.

The boy sighed tiredly. He had a feeling Dumbledore was still unsatisfied with Harry's tale regarding to finding Hedwig.

Harry thought the man would ask questions again, Harry even had a few of his own, but Rider said not a word to the boy. As impatient as he was, Harry was going to have to wait.

When the sky turned into an orange-red color, the two Riders stopped for the night. Dumbledore led the boy and his dragon off the dirt road into the seclusion of a few trees. Making sure the horses were tied to a low hanging branch. Dumbledore waived his marked hand over a medium sized boulder and had it transfigure into a trough and filled it with water using an _Aguamenti Spell_. Satisfied, Dumbledore pulled out a bushel of apples and laid them next to the horses to eat.

Harry stood awkwardly while Rider pulled out a folded tent and laid it out on the ground. "Could you raise the tent while I set about casting wards?"

"Sure." The boy answered awkwardly. The man raised an eyebrow but otherwise said nothing. With his hand raised and his mark glowing, Dumbledore set about creating a protected perimeter around them.

Harry stood in awe at the man's casual display of wandless magic then frowned at the wand in his hand. His wand, once the focal point of his magic and literally a lifesaver on more than one occasion no longer felt right to him. Since Hedwig had chosen Harry as her Rider, his magic had changed. It wasn't instantaneous, in fact Harry probably wouldn't have noticed had it not been for his need for a wand to cast magic.

Every time Harry held his wand he had the strong urge to toss it away. It was only his common sense (he could practically hear Hermione and Ron scoff in derision) that kept Harry from doing so; as well as the sentimental value the wand held.

It was common knowledge that Riders could perform magic windlessly with little to no effort. Or at least that was what Harry thought before he tried casting simple first year spells. It did not go well. Kreacher gave Harry a look that surpassed the phrase "if looks could kill", when Harry somehow made the old elf grow long luxurious hair. Dobby and his father had never been happier. At least that incident was harmless.

There were other incidents that were direr. So much so that Harry decided to stick to his wand until he was taught how to reuse his magic. With that in mind Harry tightened his grip on his holly wand and with a few flicks, Harry raised the simple tent in a matter of seconds.

Seeing that Dumbledore was still setting the wards, Harry peaked inside the tent flap and grinned when he realized it was a charmed tent. Heading inside Harry took a moment to survey his surroundings. He spotted the kitchen in the back and two doors on the left and right wall of the main room. Harry assumed the doors led to the bedrooms.

Groaning, Harry sat himself on the nearest chair and released a fatigued sigh. Who'd ever thought riding on a horse all day could be exhausting? It didn't help that his legs felt a little sore.

He felt amusement travel through their bond. Harry frowned at his dragon and heard her make a weird rasping noise a spot not far from him, she was still invisible. It took him a few moments before he realized Hedwig was doing before Harry swelled with indignation. "I don't believe, you're laughing at me!" Self-satisfaction rolled off her in waves. "Keep that up and tomorrow you'll wake up with _feathers_."

He heard her snort and could practically feel her roll her eyes. She sent him a mental image of a few rodents she saw and promptly left the tent without waiting for a response. Exasperated, the young Rider ran a weary hand through his hair. "I had to get a dragon with an attitude problem."

Jerking in surprise, Harry looked back to the entrance to where Dumbledore was chuckling in amusement. "Quite the dragon you have."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Tell me about it." He muttered. "Are all dragons like that or am I just that lucky?"

Chuckling still, Rider Dumbledore replied. "Believe it or not, dragons are very proud creatures; more so the females."

 _Go figure._ Harry thought sardonically.

"Dragons are even prouder than hippogriffs."

Harry's jaw practically dropped to the floor. The memory of Buckbeak attacking Malfoy resurfacing. How would a dragon react if they've felt insulted? The young boy dreaded the day his dragon would be breathe fire.

"Well," Harry jolted from grisly thoughts. "as you may have notice, there are two rooms. You have a choice of either, I'm not picky. The bathroom is in the far back and there is a water basin for a quick clean if you feel the need. In the meantime, I'll prepare us some supper. It should be ready within the hour."

Finding it incredulous that a Rider could cook, Harry watched Dumbledore make his way to the kitchen. "Do you need help?" he blurted out.

Smiling, the older man replied. "That won't be necessary, thank you."

With nothing more for him to do, Harry went to the room to his left to drop off his belongings then headed determinedly to the bathroom. If he held it any longer, Harry knew he was going to burst. And wouldn't that be mortifying?

Dinner (or as Dumbledore called it, Supper) went by in a jovial mood. Dumbledore regaled Harry with many stories of his youth. And in turn, Harry told the Rider some of his own. Dumbledore was quite amused of the small anecdote of Harry pretending to be the Bloody Baron to scare off Peeves the Poltergeist. Harry was shocked to learn Dumbledore had "accidentally" set the curtains on the four-poster beds aflame. Which lead Harry to speculate the curtains being charmed to resist fire as a dormmate of has, in Professor McGonagall's words, a proclivity for pyrotechnics.

Eventually, hunger got the best of them and the pair lapsed into congenial silence and ate with gusto. Rider Dumbledore was a surprisingly good cook. The Rider made a simple meat and potatoes stew with a flavorful broth that easily satiated the young boy's hunger. Sighing contentedly, Harry stretched out in his chair; his feet brushing against the side of his dozing dragon; having been turned visible at some point by Dumbledore. "That was good." He breathed out.

Dumbledore smiled and banished the dishes to the kitchen. "An old family recipe I learned from my mother." Harry blinked owlishly. It really should have been common sense, obviously Dumbledore came from somewhere. It wasn't as if he was dropped from the heavens into a field full grown. But Hearing so many legendary feats of the Rider across from him, it was easy to forget the man was once a child with parents.

The man had a life before he became the first magus Rider. What dreams did Dumbledore have, what were his aspirations? Harry wondered how the man first reacted when the egg hatched for him. How did he feel, when his dragon chose him? What was it like, being the first magus Dragon Rider?

Sensing the change of demeanor, Dumbledore's smile waned and his posture straighten. Harry silently marveled how the man went from a genial host to a formidable Rider in only a few seconds. "I think its best we move to the living room."

Releasing a quiet hiss, Harry massaged his sore thighs as he was walking stiffly behind the Rider. The patter of tiny feet and the strange chuckling let him know that Hedwig was following him and laughing at his predicament. _You're sprouting feathers tomorrow._ She replied with another eyeroll. Sighing Harry wondered how bad her attitude would be once she started talking.

He sat adjacent to the Rider and waited with bated breath for the man to speak. He didn't have to wait long.

"I believe it's time we have your first lesson."

"Now?" He asked incredulously.

"But of course! Now is an excellent time."

"Y-you're going to teach me magic?"

Dumbledore smiled. "No, not tonight. Your practical magic lessons will have to wait until we reach Deorcwuld. Now seeing as we have traveled all day and we have much land to traverse tomorrow, I shan't keep you up late." His blues eyes peered into Harry's startled green. "Until we reach our destination, our lessons will be more of an intellectual conversation between master and apprentice."

"Conversation? You mean you want me to talk in our lessons?"

"I should see why not!" Rider Dumbledore exclaimed. "I find the best way to learn is through mutual conversation. One is never too old to learn something. And it might just be you'd bring up a point or ask a question that I have never thought of before."

Harry seriously doubted he would be able to teach the Rider anything, but he decided to humor him.

"Now, Mr. Potter-Black how-

"Could you just call me Harry? Mr. Potter-Black makes me sound like a stuffy old lord." Or an ancient member of the Wizengamot.

Dumbledore chuckled. "Very well, then. Harry, how much do you know of Dragon Riders?"

Harry frowned and mulled it over his mind. "Not much." He answered truthfully. "You're immortal, like the elves, can cast wandless magic, are bonded to one dragon, and you help those in need."

"That is what we are, in general." He acquiesced. "But there is so much more to it. First and foremost, we are seekers of knowledge. We travel across the lands and seas in search of new knowledge from foreign civilizations."

In laymen's term, they're immortal Ravenclaws. Not bad he supposed.

"During the Age of Discovery, a new country was discovered every year. Even now, there are times when we discover a secret or isolated civilization from which we can learn from."

"Why do you gather knowledge?"

"It is our belief that knowledge, more specifically the thirst for it, is the framework of every successful civilization. For without this yearning to learn and grow progress would become stagnant, until it becomes obsolete. It is then, that the civilization is on the precipice of collapsing. History has numerous examples as to what happens when one civilization or group becomes too set in their ways and makes no room for change. No civilization, or organization, is immune to this. Unfortunately, this is something the Old Order learned firsthand."

"The Dragon War." Harry breathed.

"Correct. While there were numerous factors that lead to the Order's collapse and the near extinction of dragons, becoming stagnant and blind to change played a major role. It is a life lesson we strive never to repeat.

"This doesn't pertain just to our Order, Diagon itself is rather famous for its numerous works of scholars, engineers, artists, et cetera."

Harry mulled it over in his head. Dumbledore wasn't wrong. Harry supposed he'd taken for granted the numerous texts available in just his school alone. The Hogwarts Library was legendary in his own right, right after the numerous libraries, both public and private, in Whitehall Castle and the largest one east of Havelok Sea; Rowena's Athenaeum. The Athenaeum was famous worldwide. Royal and noble dignitaries often made voyages just for the site alone. Even Harry had to appreciate the vast collection of over a thousand years in one spot. And he wasn't that much of a bookworm.

"So, if you collect knowledge, how are you also peacekeepers?"

"An excellent question, Harry!" Dumbledore's eyes twinkled merrily. "How? Well, not only do we seek and gain knowledge for our sake but for others as well. Whether it be a trade of artifacts, or the sharing of an invention, these can be used for bargaining to help bridge the gap between two countries. And even there is nothing to be shared, having learned the customs of both countries or factions at odds with one another, a Rider can be an unbiased negotiator and come up with a compromise that would benefit all parties."

"Does it usually work?"

"More often than you think. Often it is the share of knowledge that turns the bitterest of enemies into the strongest of allies."

It sounded plausible and made sense to some degree. But Harry was still skeptical. Diagon had formed many alliances in both Haldórer and Alagaёsia, and even beyond. The country was even able to form a newfound alliance with Macusa despite the Macusan Revolution. Harry vaguely recalled in his history textbook that the Riders were present for the signing of treaties.

But there was one country just south of Diagon that refused to seek an alliance with any country, especially Diagon. There had been too much bad blood between the two countries and there showed no sign of either setting aside their difference.

"Do you think sharing knowledge will be the key to forming peace between Diagon and Gringotts?"

Dumbledore sighed heavily. "There is a possibility. But only if both parties are willing."

In other words, highly unlikely. In the past, goblins were known to hold grudges. Especially when they've felt they've been wronged. The common opinion is that the goblins would like nothing more than to see Diagon crumble; specifically, by their hands. The goblins kept their borders closed to all outsiders. Even the Dragon Riders were forbidden, no matter the numerous attempts of contacts for peace conferences. Apparently, the goblins greatly detested the Riders, for some unknown reason.

Harry was still skeptical but decided to give the Rider the benefit of the doubt. Who was he to question the methods of an Order that had already proven themselves numerous times in the past? Even the actions of the Rider before him prevented Diagon from falling into the hands of a madman; discounting the final blow unknowingly brought by a toddler.

"What do you collect, books?"

"And more, much, much more. While books make up the bulk of our collection, we also have sculptures, ancient instruments, treasures of unknown origin, and even artworks. In fact, the Head Rider had a Diagonian portrait commissioned of the Dragon Gates."

"The Head Rider likes our artwork?" Harry asked disbelievingly.

"Diagon's moving paintings is highly sought after all around the world." Dumbledore answered. "I have seen a simple landscape of trees and hills being hanged in the chambers of foreign royalty."

The young Rider bobbed his head. "What are the Dragon Gates?"

Dumbledore's smile widened even further. "The entrance to our land. Only those with the Mark," he pointed to the silver mark on his right palm "can see it, unless told otherwise by the Head Rider. It is truly a sight to behold. I won't tell you anything further, the surprise is worth the wait."

"Now before we retire for the night, do you have any more questions or concerns?"

The word "no" was on the tip of the boy's tongue but he paused. Now that Harry thought about it, there was one thing that concerned him. More than once, has Dumbledore said the Dragon Riders were firstly knowledge seekers. With the whole world before them, there was no shortage or difficulty to acquire items and learning various philosophies. Harry wouldn't be surprised if they were still discovering new things every day. His only conundrum was what exactly were the Riders collecting?

Harry wasn't focused on the objects themselves but the nature of them. If there was one thing Hogwarts had taught Harry well, too well some would say, was that not all things were benign. There were some things that were too dangerous to the public, objects that were better left alone (a punctured diary came to mind), knowledge that was discovered solely to inflict pain and suffering in others. Magic so vile it corrupted the soul.

If the Riders collected and sought knowledge for the betterment of all, did they also horde the more immoral aspects?

"Dumbledore…," Harry began. "if you collect knowledge for the sake of progress and to help others, do you collect knowledge that could be used…"

The man had a knowing look on his face but he urged Harry to continue. "Used for what?"

Taking a deep breath, Harry pressed on. "Do you have stuff that's…dark? Evil even?"

"Yes."

Harry felt like the rug was pulled from underneath him. "Why?"

"As a Rider, we are sworn to not only collect knowledge for the goodwill of all, but to protect the people that would otherwise use it immorally."

"But if Riders are supposed to be good, why collect books and artifacts on dark magic?"

"If we are to battle against evil, we first must know what it is we are battling against. If we were to go in blind we could endanger not only ourselves, but the innocent people we are trying to protect. Especially magic pertaining to the dark arts.

"What you must understand Harry, any item learned or gained can be used for either selfless or selfish motives. But magic is different, _our_ magic is different. Ours is based on intent and emotions. Light Magic is most powerful when the caster is pure and moral and uses emotions such as happiness and love to give power to their magic.

"Unfortunately the same could be applied to the Dark Arts. When you knowingly use spells and other magical means with emotions as toxic as hate and greed, it corrupts you. In many ways, the Dark Arts are like a drug. The more you use is, the more you learn it, the stronger the urge.

"No one is completely infallible, not even us Riders. That is why we learn only the minimum, enough to know of its existence and nothing more. For if a Rider were to fall prey to the Dark Arts, the consequences would be most severe, on the world.

"That is why, until you've completed your training, you will have no access to the Dark Arts until granted approval by the entire Elder Council. Understand?"

Disturbed, Harry nodded jerkily at the elder. He was more than aware the effects the Dark Arts did to a person; look what happened to Voldemort and Quirrell. And he was in no rush to learn anything from the malevolent magics. Just the thought touching anything tainted made Harry ill.

Dumbledore gave Harry a reassuring smile and stood up to his full height. "Now, I know you have many more questions. But the time is against us and we must leave early tomorrow morning."

"But what about-" He stopped short when the man raised a hand.

"I assure you, Harry, all of your questions will be answered in due time. Now, off to be with you." Dumbledore chuckled when Harry groaned and reluctantly went to his temporary bedroom. Hedwig gave the older Rider an unidentifiable gaze before following her younger Rider. The boy smiled softly when she brushed herself against his shins like a cat. There was even a soft rumbling that could have been taken as a purr.

"Yes, you can sleep on the bed." He laughed. Neither noticed the worried look in Dumbledore's eyes.

After changing and extinguishing the lights, Harry laid down on the surprisingly, but not unwelcomed, soft bedding. Hedwig curled herself at the foot of the bed and was nearly asleep. But sleep alluded the boy.

His mind kept wandering back to the end of his first lesson. Every time Harry closed his eyes and tried to relax, thoughts of dark magic and his past brushes with them rushed to the forefront. They wouldn't leave him be, taunting him until Harry figured sleep wasn't going to happen tonight.

He couldn't forget what Dumbledore comparing dark magic to an addicting drug. How it corrupted from the inside out until the person was no longer who they once were. Harry wasn't too much worried about the dark arts itself; he had his three years in Hogwarts to thank for that. At this point, Harry had come to expect something strange and possibly dangerous to occur every year; at least this year the strange incident was also a positive one.

Which led Harry to the crux of the matter. Dumbledore had said the dark arts corrupted the soul, Harry was more than inclined to agree, and that Riders themselves were sometimes fallible to the wicked witchcraft. But because Riders were tied deeply to their dragon. Did the dark arts affect the dragon just as strongly as the Rider? Could they become corrupted and destroyed just by association?

Harry didn't know why he was thinking of these questions. It shouldn't matter to him, he wasn't allowed to even touch a dark artifact let alone look at one until his training was complete. And even then, Harry wasn't going anywhere near them. He had enough experience to last a lifetime. Yet these questions bothered Harry greatly.

He'd only had Hedwig for three weeks, but he couldn't imagine his life without her. She was quickly becoming one of the most important being in his life. Every day, their bond grew as well as their mutual trust. Harry cared deeply for her, to the point that it nearly scared him how deep the emotion ran. It wasn't love, not yet at least. But Harry was certain that in time, love, and possibly something deeper, would form between him and Hedwig.

What also grew was his protectiveness, and he was pretty sure Hedwig felt the same way if today's actions were to go by. The boy didn't want anything bad happening to his dragon, not even from himself.

Harry looked down to the foot of the bed and released a sigh. Hedwig had already fallen asleep if the steady rise and fall of her chest was anything to go by. He searched within their bond and found that she was not yet in the land of dreams. Smiling tenderly at his little dragon, Harry whispered. "I promise, I won't let anything bad happen to you."

Hedwig opened one amber eye at the young Rider; Harry felt a little guilty for waking her up. Leisurely, the snowy dragon stretched her limbs and padded up the bed until she stood over the boy. Amber eyes met green ones, unblinkingly. Not breaking eye contact with Harry, Hedwig gently lowered her scaly snout until it touched the center of his chest. Harry felt a jolt in his magic and a myriad of emotions surged from dragon to Rider, too many to separate and analyze but it didn't matter. Harry knew, on an instinctive or spiritual level, that Hedwig made her own promise onto him. That she cared just as strongly for him as he for her.

Harry ignored the stinging of his eyes and beamed widely at his dragon. He rubbed at head and neck with affection and Hedwig purred contently. She then laid herself down next to the boy and rested her head on his chest. She peered at him with a stern gaze that made Harry chuckle. "Yeah, I'll go to sleep and stop worrying."

Satisfied, Hedwig closed her eyes and Harry followed suit.

Through their bond, Dragon and Rider, became one. And together they drifted off into the land of make-believe.


	6. The Osthato Chetowä

The following days of their travel blended together. Having left the dirt road the second day, Harry had lost his bearings and dutifully followed the Rider. From what he could tell, they were at least traveling northeast. Strangely, this didn't bother him as much. He was much more content to watching his surroundings and his dragon throughout the journey.

For the second day, the two Riders and dragon would travel in companionable silence. Dumbledore's mind seemed to wander elsewhere while Harry taught Hedwig new words. Her vocabulary was expanding far quicker than what Harry expected. She could now communicate in small sentences and common sentences like "I'm hungry." "I'm thirsty." And her favorite "My Harry."

The first time she said that Harry felt like a proud parent whose child said "mama" or "dada" for the first time. He was proud to say he didn't cry. Harry did claim to have sweat roll from his eyes because of the heat. And like the proud parent he was, the young Rider mirror-called his friends and relatives; Tonks spent a good twenty minutes telling him off for waking her up. He had no regrets.

Dumbledore continued with their nightly lessons. While not as somber in nature as the first night, the lessons were nonetheless informative. The Rider gave a brief history of the origins of the Old Riders; which was also the origin of the elves and dragons of today. Another night Dumbledore explained the different ranks and types of Dragon Riders. While the public simply called all Riders, Riders, amongst one another there were different branches and ranks to categorize a Rider's specific occupation.

Though Dumbledore gave an in-depth lecture of the subject matter, the boy's head was spinning on the numerous types of Riders. All he knew for certain was that Dumbledore was an Elder on a council, while Harry would be an Apprentice.

It was by the third day of their journey, that the two Riders felt companionable enough to share more stories of their life while traveling.

Harry would often tell stories of his childhood before attending Hogwarts. The young boy was proud to say that he never had a dull moment at the Den. Dumbledore didn't know whether to laugh or balk when Harry told him of the legendary fights between Kreacher and his father when he was younger.

Harry even told Dumbledore some the of the more lighter stories of his time in Hogwarts. From the time when he and his friends snuck Hagrid's wyvern out of the castle to the time he scared Malfoy and his goons by pretending to be a ghost of the Shrieking Shack. Dumbledore was rather interested when he learned Harry was the youngest seeker in the century to play quidditch.

The young Rider was surprised to learn that Dumbledore and his headmaster, Professor Doge, were and still are close friends since the day they met back in their first year.

Slowly the terrain changed. No longer were they in a forest of deciduous trees. But now traveling through the rocky grasslands. Ancient bedrock and boulders jutted from the soil in all angles, leading Harry to believe that the land was once a mountain chain. Through their travels, Hedwig continued to grow. No longer could Harry hold her in his arms as she was now the size of a large dog; nearly the size of his dad's Animagus form.

Despite the long hours and the sore muscles that came with riding a horse, Harry found himself enjoying the trip. It was almost relaxing yet at the same time adventurous. Never having traveled off the road into the wilderness, Harry was easily fascinated with diverse flora and fauna. It was humbling to learn that despite man's progress, much of the land was still untouched.

Hedwig was enjoying herself as well. She had started warming up to Dumbledore and learned just as much from him as Harry did. Her hunting skills also improved greatly, much to her satisfaction, as she could now chase and catch fast game like rabbits. Even a bird if the circumstances were in her favor.

The white dragon had also begun her first attempt at flying. Well gliding was more accurate. When the travelers stopped for breaks or a midday meal, Hedwig would climb up the nearest jutted boulder and jump from the highest point with her wings spread.

It wasn't at all elegant as Harry had seen older dragons do, but it was start. It turned out, Hedwig was sort of a perfectionist and wasn't satisfied with her subpar gliding skills and spent the remainder of their break practicing until she could at least land on her feet. So set on her impromptu gliding lesson, Hedwig forgot to eat.

Thankfully Dumbledore had hunting skills and was able to catch a few birds for Hedwig. Looking back, Harry supposed this was the moment when Hedwig finally warmed up to the Elder completely.

 _Of course, a way to your heart is through your stomach!_ He jested. Harry face-planted into the dirt at the swipe of a tail.

He growled. She preened.

The final day of their journey, which happened to be the last day of August, began right at sunrise. Grumpy and bleary eyed, Harry sluggishly helped Dumbledore clean up camp. The man would chuckle intermitted, much to Harry's annoyance. At least Hedwig was in the same state as Harry for once. Both had stayed up late into the night stargazing, finding constellations, and even making up a few of their own.

With no trees or firelight blocking their view, Harry thought it was the perfect opportunity to talk to his mother's star, he named it Lilwen, and introduce her to his new friend, Hedwig. He certainly was paying the price for it now.

In less than five minutes since they started their journey, Harry had yawned four times. "How much more do we have to travel?"

Dumbledore smiled at the irritable teenager. "Lucky for you, we only have an hour's more left until we reach Temese River."

"An hour!" he exclaimed. Hedwig wasn't appreciative either. "Then why did we wake up at the crack of dawn?!"

"We still have to travel by boat, and that will take up the entire day. We're cutting it close as it is, this year's chosen are scheduled to begin their first lesson in apprenticing tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?!" His heartrate increased.

Unaware to the minor panic attack, the Rider continued. "And the Masters are very persnickety about their time. Best not to upset them."

"Masters?"

"A Rider term for professor. I'm one myself."

"What do you teach?" Harry asked inquisitively.

"Transfiguration and alchemy. While the transfiguration I teach can only be applied to a magus, I've discovered alchemy can be learned by any who possesses magic."

"…what about me?"

"Pardon?"

Harry flushed. "Er, well, I'm not seventeen. I haven't even taken my O. . Won't that be a problem?"

Dumbledore seesawed his head and hummed. "Yes, your circumstances are quite unique. I would not fret over it; the Council has been made aware of your situation and have taken your age into consideration."

"Uh, thanks."

The Rider smiled humorously. "I find your lack of faith, mildly insulting."

The boy turned paled and he smiled meekly at his older companion. Hedwig laughed at his plight. Traitor.

Hedwig looked anything but contrite. It was good to know he had such a loyal dragon. Really it was.

The hour went by quicker than Harry accounted for. The morning was still a bit chilly when Harry first got a glimpse of the famous river.

They had trekked over a knobby slope and had reached the highest vantage point. Down the slope and passed more jagged boulders was the wide river, Temese. The banks around the river were thick with wide trees. From the light wind blowing at them, Harry could smell the late summer flowers in bloom that would turn to fruit come autumn.

Looking to the south, the sky was clear of any cloud and just beyond the horizon was the capital of Diagon. To the far north, rainclouds carried by the wind moved inland. The rainy season had already begun for the northern counties. But as he continued to survey the picturesque landscape he frowned.

"Where's the boat?"

Dumbledore pulled a gold pocket watch. Harry looked at the watch weirdly. It had twelve hands and rather than numbers, planets moved around the edge. Regardless of the weird watch, it looked like the other Rider could still tell time.

"It should arrive soon. We're actually a little ahead of schedule." He smiled brightly. "Rather fortunate of us. Now off we trot!"

He nudged his horse with the heel and they trotted down the slope to the brushes. Shrugging at the Rider's genial mood, Harry and Hedwig followed him. A part of Harry, if he was honest nearly all of him, was excited to finally get off the horse and stop walking funny. But he would miss camping in the woods and stargazing. It almost felt like the times he went camping with his father and uncle when Harry was younger.

Harry felt rather pathetic becoming homesick after not seeing his family, in person, for a little over three days. Merlin, he went to a boarding school for most of the year, he should be used to it by now.

 _It's different._ Hedwig's soft voice interjected.

"How?"

 _Different, place. Different sometimes…scary._ Well she wasn't wrong.

"I'm still afraid, yeah." He admitted reluctantly.

 _Okay…different not always scary. Different sometimes good._

He's heard that before too. Didn't make the fear go away or reassure him. In his opinion they were just words used by someone who didn't know what to say.

 _You different._ Said Hedwig. _You not scary._

"I'm different?"

 _Good different._ She corrected. _Not scary, my Harry._

Her views could have been biased. After all Hedwig thought highly of him and was bonded to him. He had every reason to doubt her claim on him being okay to being different. The students at Hogwarts had shown time and time again that different wasn't something to be praised or tolerated. But when he truly looked into her eyes and felt the warmth of her soul pulse through their bond. Harry knew she truly believed Harry being different was a good thing. It touched him more than he thought it would.

"Thanks, Hedwig."

By the time they've reached the cover of the trees, Dumbledore had already climbed off his horse and was washing his face with a wet cloth off the embankment. He looked over his shoulder at the sound of Harry's horse's hoofbeats and Hedwig's against the damp grass. "Ah, good. I was fearing you've wandered off and gotten lost."

Hedwig made the weird chortling noise and Harry flushed. "That was only once!"

"And I think Hedwig will agree with me when I say, it was quite hilarious."

Harry narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "…have you been around my father?"

"Now before the ship arrives, I believe some ground rules must be laid."

"Ground rules?" he raised a brow. "Like what?"

"Oh, just your usual: don't run on the main deck, keep hands and feet inside the railings at all times, attendance is mandatory on music night, don't beat your chest with your fist at an urgal-"

"Wait what?"

"And most important of all, and I cannot stress this enough when I say this, do not let Kolur rope you into any "adventures" of his."

"…Kolur?"

"Indeed." Dumbledore spoke gravely. "A young man by elf standards. I've first met when I first entered Deorcwuld. Within the hour he managed to convince me that it was a rite of passage to touch an egg belonging to a wild dragon. It did not go well." He grimaced.

"Uh…"

"There was also the time he snuck off with me on one of my first missions concerning ravaging pirates around the Lone Islands. I was under the assumption he was allowed, not even knowing he was underaged…his mother was not amused."

And that was just the beginning. It seemed to Harry that Dumbledore had a love-hate relationship with this "Kolur" and had explained all types of shenanigans he managed to drag Dumbledore through. From singing a love ballad to a giant to piggy-back riding on a kull. Whatever a kull was.

Harry wondered how the elves would allow this Kolur to leave Deorcwuld let alone allow him to work on missions.

"He's mellowed out with age, and since then I've built an immunity to his sad crup eyes. But the elf still has a mischievous streak and loves nothing more than to terrorize new apprentices."

If that were true, then this elf was the combination of the Weasley twins and Peeves. Poor Professor McGonagall would have heart palpations if she'd ever met the elf. Harry wasn't exactly thrilled to meet him either. Peeves was bad enough, and sometimes the twins, Harry didn't think he could handle a prankster elf for all eternity.

"Ah, right on schedule!" the man exclaimed.

Harry's head snapped up. Upstream a large, wide, three-mast sailing ship glided downstream. It was made with dark colored wood; the sails were tied up as the ship was under the command of the river. On the highest mast. Right above the crow's nest was a gold and white colored flag waving proudly in the wind; the gold glinting in the morning sun.

From where he stood, Harry could make out dark figures walking about the deck. A few made a series of whistles and chirps much to the confusion of Harry and Hedwig. That is until Dumbledore responded with a few chirps and whistles of his own. Belatedly, he realized it was a homing call.

The sailors must have heard Dumbledore's reply because the ship steered starboard. Dumbledore raised a hand and in a powerful display of magic, transfigured the nearest boulders into a decent size dock.

Drifting alongside, the grandiose ship came to a gentle stop. A few sailors threw spools of rope into the air and Harry watched in mild fascination as the ropes moored themselves. He'd never get tired of the random displays of magic.

A gangplank was lowered onto the transfigured dock and three people walked down with proud postures and matching uniforms worn proudly. One was a broad shouldered tall man of Hadarac descent and the other was a lean woman with olive skin, possibly from Surda. From what he observed, neither person had a silver oval swirl on their palms. Which confused Harry. But it was the one in the center that captured Harry's attention the most.

He was obviously an elf. His skin was fair, almost glowing in the sunlight, and he stood taller than even the Hadaracian. His facial features were more angular, reminding Harry of the aristocratic families in the Diagonian Courts; but much more ethereal. Harry couldn't describe him, there were no words in his language or any other that would do the elf any justice. He wasn't even sure Hermione could find words to accurately describe him.

Harry found himself a little uncomfortable thinking the man was as beautiful, if not more, than veelas. But it was the only way to describe them. Handsome was almost too rugged to use. Harry mentally snorted and thought he was being ridiculous trying to find the right words to describe their beauty. He was no poet.

Hedwig chuckled to herself and wasn't perturbed by Harry's glare. _Find something funny?_

 _You._

Harry growled.

Taking another glance, Harry knew by the state of his uniform that the male was the captain of the ship. The elf narrow shoulders and slanted gray eyes. His hair was dark colored and cropped showcasing his pointed ears. He greeted, first, Dumbledore in a language Harry never heard before; elves rarely visited Diagon. "Atra esterní ono thelduin."

Dumbledore beamed broadly and replied fluently. "Mor'manr lífa unin hjarta onr."

"Un du evarínya ono varda."

The elf glanced over to the perplexed boy and gave him an assuring smile. Rather than talking to Harry in the strange language, the elf held two fingers to his lips and twisted them. When Harry did nothing but awkwardly smile at him, the elf patiently explained in accented Diagonese.

"It is another form of greeting my people display."

"Oh! Uh, sorry." Hastily Harry returned the gesture, much to the amusement of the humans.

The captain's lips twitched upward but otherwise his face remained blank. It was kind of disconcerting. Were all elves blank-faced?

"I welcome you, young Rider, onto the _Osthato Chetowä._ I am Captain Rílvenar and it is an honor to be escorting you to Du Weldensúndav."

"Deorcwuld." Dumbledore helpfully supplied at Harry's and Hedwig's lost look. "Our land has many names. But essentially they all mean the same thing."

"Oh. Thank you." Harry thought it was weird to have so many names attached to one country. Wouldn't it be confusing remembering which name to use? Or did everybody living there used them interchangeably?

Harry mentally placed it to the back of his mind and refocused on the captain. "-stable hands, will tend to your horses for the duration of the trip." The elf gestured to the two humans standing at attention.

Dumbledore inclined his head appreciatively and acknowledge the pair behind the Captain. The Rider easily switched tongues and spoke to them in a language different than what he spoke to Captain Rílvenar; possibly extending his gratitude.

Harry's head swam while watching the short exchange. _Merlin, I don't have to learn all of those languages, do I?"_

Hedwig grumbled. _Maybe._ She didn't sound thrilled of the possibility. And who could blame her, she was just now getting a grasp on Diagonese. As for Harry, he was absolutely rubbish on learning foreign languages; unless you counted Parseltongue and even that was questionable. It was also the reason why he didn't take Ancient Runes with Hermione. He was just fine with the one language he learned.

Unfortunately, it looked like learning multiple languages would be part of his apprenticeship.

Harry handed the reins of his horse to the Hadaracian and followed closely behind Dumbledore, Hedwig right at his heels.

He felt self-conscious under the curious stares of the two sailors behind him. And even as the captain was conversating steadily with Dumbledore, every now and then he would tilt his head in the direction of Harry and Hedwig.

The boy nearly rolled his eyes. _It's like being back at Hogwarts._

 _At least, it same!_ Cheeky dragon.

Hedwig was the opposite of Harry. While he was trying not to shy away from the open stares of the other sailors, Hedwig held her head high and was filled with a sense of self-importance. This time Harry did roll his eyes.

Thankfully she didn't growl at anyone this time.

 _Day, young._

 _You mean the day is still young?_

 _Yeah._

He released a longsuffering sigh. Wonderful. His dragon was going to be the terror of _Osthato Chetowä._

Once on deck, another pair of sailors (both elves) pulled up the gangplank then assisted the human pair with leading the horses to stables below. Majority of the crew were elves and humans but Harry also saw an urgal or two as well as a few dwarves striding about; the bulk of them focused on the tasked at hand. A few stopped abruptly and stared in a mix of wonder and disbelief at Harry and his white dragon.

The friendlier faces smiled and waved at the young boy or greeted him with the twist of their fingers. The more reserved ones stared at Hedwig, then Harry, than, to his annoyance, his scar. Most had looks of wonder and disbelief flitted across their faces. One even went as far as to rub her eyes and looked again.

They all stood at attention at the sharp whistle and returned to their tasks. The captain, now standing at the helm, gave three chirps in quick succession and a few elves unmoored the ship from the transfigured dock.

A single long, low toned, whistle emitted from the captain's lip and the ship moved portside away from the dock. Harry looked over the railing just in time to see the dock turn back into rocks plopping into the water.

"Cool." He said.

"Harry." Dumbledore's raised voice was heard over the cacophony of voices. The Rider stood next to the Captain at the helm of the ship and beckoned the boy.

With one last glance at the passing foliage, Harry and Hedwig carefully made up their way to the helm. "Yes, Rider Dumbledore?"

"Unfortunately for me, Captain Rílvenar has informed me that the Council is awaiting my call from a scrying mirror." Harry chuckled at Dumbledore's put out expression. "Fortunately, you don't have to attend the meeting. Unless you want to?" Dumbledore looked at the young boy beseechingly.

"Er, no…sorry."

"Well, it was worth a try. Then I shall see you for midday meal. I trust you and Hedwig not to get into too much trouble?"

"Albus." The Captain said in a warning tone.

"Make that no trouble at all." The Rider amended.

Harry smiled. "Of course, sir."

"Excellent. Captain, I leave my charge in your capable hands."

"Good luck, Dumbledore." Harry called out.

"I'll need all the luck I can get. These meetings can be dreadfully boring!"

 _He weird._ Said Hedwig.

"He's awesome."

Hedwig rolled her eyes while huffing. _You weird._

The boy grinned impudently at the young dragon. "I'll take that as a compliment."

Captain Rílvenar cleared his throat before Hedwig could come up with comeback. Both Rider and dragon looked sheepishly at the elf. The elf had one brow raised at the duo with no other emotion shown on his face. If Harry hadn't known any better, he would have thought the elf's face was made of marble.

"We are scheduled to arrive in Du Weldensúndav in the evening. I trust Rider Dumbledore informed you of the rules and safety on this ship?"

Harry had the suspicion mandatory attendance to music night wasn't considered a rule to the captain. He didn't seem to be musically inclined. Or emotionally. And carried himself in a way that reminded Harry of Professor McGonagall. Only the twins would be bold, or foolish, enough to mess with the Captain.

"Yeah, he did." He answered.

"Good. I'm afraid I can't much entertain you until Rider Dumbledore is relieved from his meeting. But since he as entrusted me to make sure you are well looked after, I shall assign one of my men to your care."

In other words, Harry was getting a babysitter. Wonderful.

"Uh, thanks?" The elf's face was, predictably, impassive.

Captain Rílvenar cocked his head to one side then sighed resignedly. "Kolur, I know you're listening. Come down."

Harry and Hedwig jumped in fright when a person landed deftly in front of them. Hedwig growled from her spot behind Harry's legs and the boy nearly tripped over his dragon.

The new person, and Harry vaguely realized it was another elf, was crouched on the balls of his feet. He wasn't wearing shoes.

The Captain must have thought the same thing as he said aloud. "Where are your boots?"

Now standing, the elf shrugged and grinned at the captain. Harry nearly groaned out loud. He was all too familiar with that kind of grin as well as the twinkle of mischief in his eyes. It reminded him of Fred and George, or worse, his father.

Captain Rílvenar sighed wearily and gestured to the boy. "This is the new apprentice, Harry Potter-Black."

"Just Harry, is fine." He interjected quickly. The captain's raised his brows and Harry's face became hot. "Er, sorry." Hedwig was snickering.

 _Laugh it up lizard._

 _Not lizard!_

"Albus has left the boy in our care until his meeting with the Council concludes."

"Oh Albus is here?" Harry thought if the elf could have gotten away with it, he would have cackled maniacally while rubbing his hands in ill-placed jubilation.

"Kolur…" The elf raised his hands in surrender. Harry thought it was oddly…human of him. "Seeing as you so _kindly_ made your presence known. I'm placing you in charge of watching after him until Dumbledore is freed from his duties."

"Of course, Captain. _Just_ Harry and his dragon will be in capable hands."

Even with his blank stare, Harry could tell the elf wasn't convinced of this Kolur. Harry wasn't either. He knew troublemakers when he saw one, Harry technically was one himself, and he had no intentions on getting off on the wrong foot with the Captain or with any of the Riders he'd might meet today, tonight, whenever.

Captain Rílvenar opened his mouth, hopefully to change his mind for someone more levelheaded, when the Hadaracian from earlier called for the Captain in his strange tongue. The Captain gave Kolur one last look of forewarning then turned to the dark-skinned man.

The younger elf swiveled on his heels and beamed at the young Rider. Harry nearly gulped. Hedwig wasn't too thrilled either.

Kolur had a full head of curly black hair; curly not common amongst the elves. But like the others of his kind, this one had an angular face, though not as sharp as with other elves, with slanted eyes and ears tapered to tips. Harry took note that the elf had a pair of brown eyes and his skin was comparatively brighter than the others.

To Harry, Kolur almost looked like a cross between an elf and human. His features were more rugged than the common elf yet more fair than the common man.

The tall man was also staring curiously at Harry, more specifically his scar, leaving Harry to wonder if the elves also heard of him.

Finally, Kolur smiled gently at the young magus, a stark contrast to the roguish grin he harbored earlier. He greeted Harry and Hedwig with the familiar hand gesture and smiled widely when Harry did the same. Hedwig gave the elf an incremental nod.

"So, you're the fourth Rider I've heard so much about."

"Y-you heard about me?" Harry gulped.

"All of Du Weldensúndav has heard of you. It isn't every day a fourth Rider comes into our midst…You're shorter than what I pictured."

"Hey!"

"And who is this dashing creature beside you?"

 _I like him._

Still peeved about his height, Harry answered tersely. "Hedwig."

"Hedwig?" the elf asked peculiarly. "Not a common name for a dragon."

Hedwig bared her teeth with a low growl in the pit of her throat. Smug

Feeling haughty, he asked _Do you still like him?_

The look Hedwig gave him made the young magus relieved she couldn't breathe fire…yet.

Kolur's eyebrows rose astonishingly. "My apologies Hedwig," the elf placated "I meant no offence." Hedwig bared her teeth then turned tail. Harry figured she was off to hunt any rats that may be on board.

"Quite the attitude, that one." The elf gestured to the white dragon on the main deck. A dwarf had just tripped over his legs in a haste to get out of the dragon's way.

 _Be nice, Hedwig!_ She ignored him.

"You have no idea." Harry muttered. "Sorry about that." he mumbled sheepishly. "It takes her awhile to warm up to new people. And she kind of has an attitude problem."

Funnily enough, the elf wasn't offended. If anything, he was highly amused; or as much as the elf allowed to be seen. And waived off the apology. "It is of no trouble to me." He answered. "She almost reminds me of another dragon I know."

"You're a Dragon Rider?" he asked eagerly.

"Afraid not." His voice reserved. "I am but a sailor traveling wherever the currents takes me."

"Doesn't sound bad."

"It certainly has its moments." the elf sighed and gazed longingly at to the eastern horizon. "Come, my Captain has left you in my care. You must be hungry, yes?"

"Dumbledore and I already ate. I should be fine until lunch. Do you have somewhere where I can place my bag?" he gestured to his bag hanging off his shoulder.

"Then we'll head to my room. Is there anything, in particular, you want to do or do you prefer to be left alone. Fair warning, you would have to stay in my room as it is not safe for you to wander around unattended."

The idea of staying in a room all day, after spending days in the outdoors, wasn't appealing. His curiosity was piqued. He'd never been on a ship before and seeing as he would only spend the day onboard the _Osthato Chetowä,_ Harry wanted to make the most of it.

"Could you show me around the ship? I've never been on one."

Kolur grinned at the young magus. "It would be an honor to escort a Rider around the _Osthato Chetowä._ "

The hours steadily went by as the Kolur showed Harry, and eventually Hedwig, about the enchanted ship. They visited the stables first, after Harry's bag was dropped off in Kolur's room. And Harry was taken aback the number of animals the ship held. The stables greatly resembled, and smelled, like a small barn. With a few horses, pigs, and chickens, there was even a unicorn in the far corner stable!

How they managed to catch one was beyond Harry. The woman that took the reins of Dumbledore's horse was next to the magical creature brushing its white coated. In the dim lighting, the unicorn shone brighter than Kolur's skin. Harry kept his distance from the beast, they were jittery around males.

Next on the tour were various rooms, some for guests, others for storage. There was even a small library towards stern. There were a few rooms Harry wasn't allowed in. Dumbledore's personal quarters, as he was busy with a conference, the Captain's quarters, and the kitchens. The last was more so of Kolur than Harry. The Cook had forbidden Kolur from ever stepping foot again. According to the spirted elf, it was just a "misunderstanding". Harry and Hedwig weren't convinced.

They were, however, allowed into the mess hall. To Harry it looked like someone brought the forest indoors.

The last to be explored were the masts above the deck. It was an experience Harry greatly enjoyed. With them being so high up on the mainmast with the fair wind ruffling through his clothes, Harry imagined himself flying.

Even Hedwig enjoyed herself and more than once glided from mast to mast, awing the sailors on deck. The most enjoyable experience was when they were in the crow's nests with another elf. They were passing Lynden and Harry was taken away with the different view of the sprawling city. Whitehall Castle stood magnificently towards the center of the capital. It's white stones and the stained glass.

Harry refused to move while sailing through Lynden. The young boy stared at everything hungrily, committing everything to memory. From the thatched roofs to the gilded domes of the Athenaeum to the marbled building belonging to visiting Dragon Riders. He looked at it all and wondered where in the vast city were his friends.

The boy did not leave the crow's nest until the tallest tower sunk beneath the horizon. Surreptitiously, Harry wiped the last of his tears and silently climbed down the nautical rope ladder. He knew his eyes were puffy and red, for Kolur's lingered on them, but was grateful when the elf made no comment and continued with their tour.

Hedwig silently comforted him as the two followed the elf to the bow.

There the elf talked about his numerous adventures around the globe with Harry and Hedwig listening raptly. Soon others were attracted by his flamboyant tales and in turn spoke ones of their own from both onboard the _Osthato Chetowä_ and other ships.

Even Dumbledore, now relieved from his conference, entertained the sailors with an anecdote or two about his travels by sea.

Come high evening, the cawing of seagulls and the crashing of waves drew Harry from the sailors. Kolur had an enthusiastic smile adorn his face, he ran gracefully up the bowsprit, hanging precariously off the fore topgallant stay (a rope extending from the bowsprit to the foremast) and began to sing in his native tongue.

Someone had pulled a reed pipe and played along while a few others joined in singing, including Dumbledore.

Harry didn't know what they were singing, but it calmed something in him. For the first time in weeks, his worries and self-doubt faded away and he eagerly looked forward to the near future.

He leaned against the rails, as did Hedwig once she hopped onto her hind legs, and didn't stop smiling when the Aerion Sea became visible around the riverbend.

Both breathed deeply the ocean air, felt the spraying mist upon their hair and scales. The sails unfurled and billowed in the wind. The singers reached their crescendo and the waves crashed thunderously against the sides of the _Osthato Chetowä._

With Diagon behind them and the sea-green waters stretched before them, Harry felt rejuvenated.

He accepted his life had changed forever. He held cherished the memories of his family and friends, the chains that held him back broke free. And as the ship sailed further away from the Diagonian shore, Harry embraced the unknown.

* * *

AN: And we've now caught up to where I was previously. Thanks everyone who've read, reread, reviewed, followed, and favored this story. It truly means a lot to me. Until next week and I hope this transitioning chapter wasn't too much of a bore to you.


	7. Dras Bjarstál

AN: I'm so excited for this chapter and it was fun to write! And this is the first new chapter since I've rewritten the story so I want to thank everyone again who's read, reread, followed, favored, and left a review. It means a lot to me. Read and enjoy! BTW, I've been thinking of drawing a map of Haldórer so that ya'll have an image of where Harry and Hedwig have traveled so far. Let me know what you think.

* * *

The _Osthato Chetowä_ breached dramatically from the blue-green waters of the inland sea. The large sail ship listed heavily from side to side until it steadily balanced itself atop the rolling waters. An anchor on portside plummeted into the waters, further steadying the enchanted ship.

Warm lights shone through the portholes and slowly, seamen trickled onto the deck, surveying for any damage that might have happen while traveling submarined. The routine of the men and women abruptly disrupted by the commotion of an overzealous dragon.

The snowy dragon eagerly ran about the deck, knocking people left and right off their feet. So zealous in her excursion, Hedwig had even managed to topple over an urgal. And right behind her trail of destruction was a young boy apologizing profusely to every person.

"Sorry! Sorry! She's normally not like this." Harry said frantically. "Hedwig no!" Harry cried.

Hedwig had scaled up another urgal and jumped onto the nearest mast until she reached the lowest perched. The snowy dragon crooned contently and stretched out her wings. Leaving her Rider to deal with the fallout.

The sailors weren't amused and the glares from the tough-skinned urgals was most disheartening. "I..uh, I didn't know she would act like that. Sorry." He said and rubbed the back of his head awkwardly. None of the sailors were appeased and Harry feared he wasn't going to get out of this situation entirely unscathed. "Thanks a lot, Hedwig." He muttered angrily.

"Be at ease, the boy already apologized." A calm voice called from within the cabin. Kolur had entered on deck. Followed closely by the reserved Captain Rílvenar and Rider Dumbledore. The younger elf smiled impishly between Hedwig to Harry. The boy felt his face grow hot.

"Tend to your stations, we'll be arriving shortly." Captain Rílvenar commanded. "Leave the boy to manage his dragon."

The sailors acquiesced, though unhappily, a few of the dwarves gave Harry the stink-eye while muttering in Dwarvish. One human, fair-skinned with light brown hair, grumbled to another human with tanned skin in their language and gestured from Hedwig to Harry.

His dragon, still perched atop the lowest bar, watched the sailors raptly. Her tail swishing side to side. It was only when it was just Harry and Elder Dumbledore standing in the immediate vicinity that her muscles loosened around the shoulders and hips.

"Great, now everyone thinks I can't control my dragon." Harry muttered.

"Hmm…there are some that also share some concerns regarding your age." Said Dumbledore.

Harry looked at Dumbledore sharply. "They think I'm too young and immature, don't they?"

The Elder answered affirmatively. "Great." Harry muttered. "It's gonna be like school all over again. No matter how many times I would tell people, they never believed me!" he nearly shouted. Harry sighed heavily and ran a hand through his shaggy hair, he would need it cut soon. "I don't want them to think about me like that…what should I do?" he looked up to Dumbledore's eyes.

"You want my advice?" the man asked curiously.

"Yes."

Dumbledore leaned down until his lips were right next to Harry's ears. "Let them think so." The man whispered.

"What?" Harry asked appallingly.

"Let them think what they want of you."

"B-but then they'll always think I'm some puny boy who can't control his dragon! And who's too young to even be a Rider!"

"Firstly, no one can "control a dragon". Like you and I, a dragon chooses when to listen and ignore their Rider. You must remember, Harry, Hedwig is not your pet. She is your partner, your other half, your _Heart_. Together you stand as equals and the sooner you realize this, the stronger the Bond. The sailors and other non-Riders can be ignorant of this fact, but you don't have such a "luxury". Do you understand?"

"Yes sir." Harry replied meekly.

"Good. Secondly, you should not care what strangers think of you." He held up his hand forestalling Harry's outburst. "It's easier said than done, I know. But Harry, if you spend your life convincing others of your worth, they'll only see an insecure boy. And you'll be pandering to the power they hold over you.

"There will always be people who'll doubt you, but you must never doubt yourself. Harry, in the past week we've traveled together I've seen not an immature goy too young to be a Rider, but a caring, responsible young man with a strong moral fiber…with a tendency to quip sarcastic remarks." Harry smirked. "You have a good heart Harry, don't let others change that in you. Never doubt your worth."

"Thanks." Harry smiled wanly. They were nice words, but the boy had difficulty believing what Dumbledore said.

"You're also never alone. Even if there are those that will never believe you, there will be just as many that will always stand beside you. Your family, friends, and even me." Hedwig squawked angrily from her post. "Of course, you also have Hedwig." Dumbledore chuckled. "My apologies, Hedwig."

"Thank you." Harry said with more heartfelt. The small doubts that were niggling to return were put to rest and Harry breathed deeply. He could do this, it was just another adventure. Yes, the circumstances were different, but it was an adventure nonetheless. If he could face the past three years of Hogwarts and live, he could handle Dragon Rider training.

"Now then Harry, I suppose you're wondering why we've anchored out in the sea." Dumbledore asked.

"It did cross my mind once or twice." Harry wisecracked. Elder Dumbledore chuckled. Harry looked out to the sea, hoping to get his bearings back. He'd lost them completely once the _Osthato Chetowä_ sank beneath the waves of Areion Sea; it was also then that Harry discovered Hedwig had a strong aversion to being underground (or in this case underwater).

The enchanted ship was anchored hundreds of meters from the rocky cliffs and sea stacks of the enormous dark mountains. Even from where they stood, the boy heard the thunderous crashing of waves against the rocks. The mountain chain stretched from north to south far beyond the young Rider's sight. And the mountains alone, made up the jagged coastline, not a beach could be seen in the waning light.

There were no other ships, no settlements were situated on the mountains, no floating towns in the waters. And if the silence from underwater in the past hour was anything to go by, there wasn't even a merperson settlement nearby. In all aspects, they were in a desolate area of an unknown sea.

"Where are we?" he asked.

"I'm not surprised you don't recognize these mountains. It is very rare for those of our kind to be on this side of the mountain chain. The mountains you out there make up the western side of the Black Mountains."

"The Black Mountains!" Harry exclaimed. "We're that close? I thought, Deorcwuld was far away on some island?"

Dumbledore chuckled. "Most, if not all, think so. We neither confirm nor deny their assumptions."

"So we're somewhere in the Havelok Sea?"

"Precisely." Havelok Sea was a wide inland sea that separated Alagaёsia and Haldórer. All along the eastern coast of the Havelok were the famous Black Mountains. The mountains themselves curved around Diagon and made up the country's western and northern borders. Hogsmeade was the sole city of Diagon that rested on Havelok's eastern shores. And, apparently, the land of the Dragon Riders was hidden somewhere within those mountains.

"How do we get to Deorcwuld?" Harry asked. "This boat doesn't fly right?"

Dumbledore smiled. "No, it doesn't fly. We'll be taking a more direct route. If you could call Hedwig down from her post."

"Hedwig, get down from there. Rider Dumbledore wants to speak to us."

Hedwig sighed and tared up at the sky forlornly. _Fine._ The snowy dragon gracefully glided down from her perch and landed lightly next to her Rider. Crooning, Hedwig brushed herself against his thighs and pushed her snout into his marked hand.

"All better then?"

 _Never want to go underwater, or underground._

"It really bothers you that much?"

 _Yes._

"Then I'll make sure you never have to go underground or underwater again."

 _My Harry._ She crooned in gratitude.

"Before we continue any further, I need to know for certain if you have any doubts or reservations on becoming a Rider." The twinkles in his eyes vanished and the jovial tone of the man's voice turned somber.

"What do you mean?"

"Every potential is given a final choice. Right here, at this very spot by an Elder of the Council. To join the Riders, become keepers of the peace and the freedom of knowledge. Or to forge their own path, their own meaning out within the world."

"I can do that?" Harry asked incredulously.

"But of course! You always have a choice Harry it is part of our given right to free will and never let anyone else tell you any different. But all choices have consequences and should never be made lightly.

"In this instance, I only offer this to both you and Hedwig once. Once your decision is made, there is no going back. If you want to take a few moments to discuss this with Hedwig, I'll leave you alone."

 _What do you think Hedwig?_

 _…I want to stay._

 _Me too._ "You don't have to Rider Dumbledore, Hedwig and I already made up our minds. We're going to see this through."

Dumbledore blinked. "That simple?"

The young magus shrugged. "If we didn't want to, we'd have never left Godric's Hollow with you. We're not quitters or oath-breakers." An even bigger insult amongst the nobles in Diagon. "We won't go back on our word just because it's hard."

The tall Rider nodded firmly and a proud smile from crossed his face. "Indeed. Then that leaves only one thing left. How much do you know about the Ancient Language?" he asked in a tone that Harry dubbed his "Professor Voice".

Harry shrugged. "It's ancient?" Hedwig snorted, and the Rider chuckled.

"Good one! Commonly it is the language used by the Elves. It holds much sway over the people of Alagaesia and is the language of magic much like Latium is to us. But unlike our magical language, the Ancient is a language of truth. You cannot lie, and your words can be as binding as an Unbreakable Vow." The boy's eyes widened. "Magic in this language is not to be taken lightly even if you and I cannot use it. We _can_ , however, speak it and we cannot lie in this language as well.

"In time, you will be able to speak this language just as fluently as speaking Diagonese. You would also need to learn fully Latium to expand on your own type of magic." Harry didn't know whether to be excited or mortified. He had to learn two different languages?

"Not to sound rude, Rider, but what does the Ancient Language have to do with finding Deorcwuld?"

"An excellent question, Harry! In the Ancient Language, every person, animal, objects, and even lands have a True Name. A True Name for a person, defines all who they are in a couple of words in the Ancient Language. Apart from elves, it is often difficult and takes many hours of soul searching to discover your True Name. The same can be said for lands.

"Usually True Names only influence people and lands born or are founded in Alagaёsia as the magic is tied intimately to the land.

"Deorcwuld, is the only country outside of Alagaёsia that holds a True Name. We've bonded the knowledge of the lands whereabouts to the Deorcwuld's True Name. It can only be seen by those who have spoken it clearly."

"But aren't you afraid of people, not riders" here he gestured to the sailors tending to their work "will spread this around the world?"

"Quite keen, are you?" Dumbledore's eyes twinkled merrily. "The knowledge of Deorcwuld's true name can only be passed by members on the Elder Council. I must warn you, once you and Hedwig utter the words you've taken a magical binding oath to follow the ways of the Dragon Riders. Should either of you break your oath, the consequences will be severe."

Harry shivered. For once he held in his curiosity. Some questions were better left unanswered.

 _For now._ Hedwig replied.

"Are you both ready?" Dumbledore asked.

"Yes." Harry answered. Hedwig nodded her head surely.

Without further prompting, Dumbledore knelt to Harry and Hedwig and spoke strongly the True Name. Harry and Hedwig shivered from the rush of power that swathed them. The power a True Name had…it daunted him. Dumbledore had carefully repeated every syllable until he was confident that both Harry and his dragon were able to correctly pronounce Deorcwuld's True Name.

Dumbledore led the pair closer to the railings and had them face a specific section of the Black Mountains that Harry found hard to focus on. With Dumbledore's approval Harry whispered the True Name and lost his breath from the wave of foreign magic rolling over his body.

His snowy dragon reacted differently, she stood firm and proud as the strange magic roiled with her own. She flexed her wings and tilted her head to the darkening sky, crooning a mournful melody that left Harry and the crew of the _Osthato Chetowä_ mystified.

"What were you singing about?" Harry asked in awe.

 _Home_.

Harry looked up to the older Rider and was perplexed with the knowing look on his face.

"Every dragon that has felt Deorcwuld's True Name for the first time has made the same song." He gestured out to the sea. "Look to the mountains, Harry."

Harry did, and his jaw could have fallen to the deck for all he knew. The view before him certainly merited the reaction. A large section of the Black Mountains had disappeared. And in their place were two megalithic monuments. Taller than even the tallest tower from Hogwarts were two dragons' statues made of white stone. The statues mirrored one another with the dragons sitting on their hind legs with their tails wrapped around the base. Their maws were wide opened, showcasing sharp teeth, and something was held between the jaws. To Harry it looked like colors one would see in a rainbow, changing interchangeably.

It almost looked like the dragons were holding fire.

"You are one of the privileged few to feast your eyes on the Dragon Gates." Said Dumbledore.

Harry nodded absently. The ability to speak had left him. His dragon was equally in awe as they sailed closer to the twin megaliths.

The closer they sailed, the more details Harry saw. They were a mastery all on its own, surpassing even the most extravagant architectures Diagon harbored. The details were so intricate that Harry could see scales carved into the surface, resembling greatly dragon skin. The tails had spikes, the feet sharp claws. Harry suspected there was magic at play as he saw the waves crash against the bases yet there was no sign of weathering or age. In fact, the statues looked like the stone masonries had just completed their project.

He craned his neck to get a better view of the dragon's head, but the marine layer had started to settle, and the magus could see nothing past the stomach. The changing colors of the dragon's "fire" glowed eerily through the fog. "Did the dwarves make these?" he asked.

Dumbledore hummed. "It's possible. I'm afraid I don't know the answer to that question. No Rider or those associated with the Riders hasn't a clue who created the Dragon Gates."

Harry stared at Dumbledore in disbelief. "What?"

"The statues were estimated to have been here long before Head Rider Shadeslayer and his company discovered Deorcwuld."

"How long?"

"Hmm, I would safely guess centuries at the least. The land of the Riders holds many secrets and mysteries regarding it's past. Even the oldest of Riders discovers something new every few years." Harry found that unbelievable.

Having safely passed the Dragon Gates, another wave of magic rolled over Harry and Hedwig. The sensation so powerful, it nearly bowled the young teen over. Breathless Harry graciously accepted the cup of water and chugged it down in one gulp.

"W-what was that?" he asked shakily.

"The magic of Deorcwuld." Dumbledore sighed in bliss. His posture was laxed and he leaned against the wood railing a contended smile crossed his lips. "In time, the magic will become familiar to you and will greet you like a long-lost friend."

"Is…is Deorcwuld alive?"

"In a way." The Rider answered cryptically, eyes a twinkled.

 _It's ancient._

Harry agreed. The magic of Deorcwuld was ancient, it felt alive in a way. And to Harry, and of course Hedwig, the magic didn't feel as strange as Dumbledore intoned. It was…familiar.

Silently basking in the strange atmosphere, the bonded pair watched as the ship sailed through the towering mountains. Harry stared in wonder when the _Osthato Chetowä_ passed by ruins of a medium sized fortress carved into the mountain. Unlike the Dragon Gates, the ruins were in such a state that it looked like a strong gust of wind could topple the fortress off the cliffside.

Dumbledore explained that the fortress had once belonged to a long-lost civilization that created a kingdom high in the Black Mountains. It wasn't as old as the Dragon Gates, but Dumbledore speculated it was perhaps the first kingdom to reside on Haldórer after the disappearance of the people who made the Dragon Gates.

Had Hermione been here, she would have been salivating at the mouth from just the two ancient sites that possibly belonged to two different civilizations. Harry himself was impressed and wanted to explore more the fortress in the mountains as well as the dragons at the entrance of Deorcwuld. If this was what could be found shortly after entering the mystical land of the Riders, what else laid beyond the mountains and into the heart of the country?

A half hour passed when Harry saw his first set of trees. The ship had followed the riverbend and had left the last of the western chain of the Black Mountains behind them. In the cover of darkness Harry couldn't make much detail of them only that they were big and dwarfed over the tallest mast of the _Osthato Chetowä._ Yet the forest wasn't silent. With the sun having set, nocturnal creatures began frolicking the thick forest.

Harry felt like he was being watched by something beyond his line of sight, a sentiment Hedwig returned, and for a better peace of mind the bonded pair left the railings to where the rest of the crew had congregated.

The fireless lanterns, called Erisdar, of the of the enchanted ship had changed colors from a yellow to a soft green to further blend into the surrounding forest. The voices of the crew were calm and low, and many had taken to relaxing and nodding along with the somber melody played by a reedpipe. Harry was surprised to learn it was the Captain playing the music. The tune he played resembled greatly to the song Hedwig had sang earlier.

Hedwig must have thought so too, for she began "singing" alongside the Captain, enrapturing all the crew. Harry was swayed into the music's magic and found himself humming from time to time. He was mystified at the dragon's singing and didn't even know Hedwig could make such a sound. Towards the end, a many of the elves, and even a few of the other species, had wept unashamedly. Dumbledore's eyes appeared wet underneath the green light. But they were not tears of sadness but of joy.

Harry had to blink his eyes rapidly to avoid crying. He wasn't sad. But the intensity of his joy and happiness overwhelmed him.

With the mournful melody ending, the musicians began to play something more upbeat and soon a few of the sailors began to dance. As did Harry. However, he was more of an unwilling participant as Kolur dragged him to the foray, all the while Dumbledore and Hedwig chuckled at his plight. Thankfully the dance was quick and Harry all but ran to the side with the other viewers.

"S'not funny." He muttered while Hedwig made her strange chortling sound.

It wasn't long before Rider and dragon caught their first sight of civilization. In the center of the river, now widened, was a rocky island with only one tree. Like most of the trees of the forest, it was grand in size. But it differed greatly than the ones in the dark forest. It was surely a tree, for there were branches full of leaves and a mighty trunk, but the shape was peculiar.

Warm light shone through large gaps that resembled the floor to ceiling windows of Hogwarts Castle. Stairs grew out of the trunk and spiraled upward. "It's…a treehouse! An actual treehouse!" he said disbelieving.

"That would be an elf's doing." Dumbledore supplied. "With their magic, they can sing any plant into the shape they desire. There are many "tree-buildings" here in Deorcwuld.

From his spot beside the wheel, the Captain made a series of chirps and whistles like he did earlier this morning; and hadn't that seemed so long ago. The Captain's birdcalls (as Harry decided to call them) were met with two humanoid beings silhouetted by the light waving to the passing ship with set of chirps and whistles of their own. Judging from their height, they were possibly elf or human.

"Nearly there now." Said Dumbledore. The excitement heard in his voice only increased Harry's eagerness. It was like traveling to Hogwarts for the first time. Harry didn't know how much longer he could wait.

He didn't have to wait long.

A high screech filled the nighttime sky. Hedwig stood alert, pupils shrank to slits and shoulders hunched as she eyed the skies warily. Harry, and presumably the others, looked up to see a group of large creatures flying passed them. Their shapes looked familiar but to Harry it only added to his confusion.

"Pygmy wyverns." Dumbledore answered his unasked question. "The smaller, domesticated cousins of the large wild wyverns to the north. They are ridden only by non-Riders. What you saw was a patrolling party leaving the city. We're close."

"Are there many non-Riders here?" Harry asked.

"More than there are Riders. Most are descendants of Riders whom married to mortals. What was once a castle home only to Riders and dragons has evolved into a city-state. Why more than half the crew here can trace their lineage to one or more of the older Riders."

Harry's response was lost just as the ship passed a cluster of trees and the river opened to a lake. Breathless and stupefied the boy and his dragon watched the enchanted view unfold before them.

Buildings made of trees and stones, all gargantuan in size, hugged the shores. Wide walkways on elevated levels connected the buildings like bridges, strong enough to support fully grown dragons. Lights of all colors emitted from the city and glittered on the lake's surface. The docks were still filled with merchants. The city rested at the base of the valley spreading upward and outward toward the hills, and possibly the waterfalls.

The faint noise of waterfalls blanketed the city, blending melodiously with the cacophony of multiple languages. While the roars of dragons were heard over all.

And there were dragons. Many dragons! Dragons were everywhere. In the skies, on the streets, and even a few swimming alongside their Riders. They were of all shapes and colors, from the size of houses to the size of horses, from dark blues and purples to bright reds and yellows.

"Welcome to Dras Bjarstál." The Rider gestured grandly.

 _Our new home._ Said Hedwig.

"Yeah, our new home." A wide smile crossed his face.

The ship pulled alongside a vacant dock and was moored safely by ropes. The Riders and dragons bade Captain Rílvenar and his crew farewell and have given their deep gratitude for their safe journey. Kolur stood to the captain's left and offered the young Rider a mischievous grin as his way of farewell. Something told Harry it wouldn't be the last he saw of the elf.

"Come along Harry, time is short!"

Obediently the young Rider followed Dumbledore away from the docks and further into the city.

Dras Bjarstál, translated to Brightsteel City in Diagonese, was built to not only accommodate the largest of urgals but also fully-grown dragons. The streets and elevated walkways were wide enough for four dragons to walk side by side comfortably. Buildings made of wood and stone had high archways for dragons at either the base or the top of the buildings. There were two types of stairs. One set was often at the sides of the streets and was used by humanoid beings and smaller dragons will larger stone steps were used by the maturing dragons.

Despite the difference in architecture and the occasional dragon or Rider that welcomed Dumbledore (and stared curiously at Harry and Hedwig) Harry found Brightsteel City resembled greatly Lynden. Like the capital, it appeared the Rider city never truly slept as the walkways and storefronts were still active with people going about their lives.

There were many stores Harry wanted to visit but with the way Dumbledore walked determinedly to their destination he knew a tour would have to wait. It still didn't stop his head from swiveling from left to right. He couldn't read the names of much of the storefronts as they were written in different glyphs than Latium.

He and Hedwig decided to make a game of guessing which store sold what. Much of them were like the ones found on Diagon Alley in Lynden. Apothecaries, linens, pets, even flying broomsticks. They had passed the last of the stores, to which a woman with thick, curly brown hair and flashing eyes winked at them, and were now crossing a bridge over a wide trough that had a stream at the bottom.

The area they crossed over to was considerably quieter than the rest of the city. Most of the trees in the area were unenchanted. And the few that were, were dark or emitting blues and greens of light. The atmosphere was calmer, less hectic than the city (even though the city was much calmer than Lynden ever was).

The trio passed by an oval shaped garden with a fountain statue in the center. Harry could only catch a glimpse of the statue's profile before he was ushered onward by Dumbledore.

"Where are we?" he asked.

"These are the training grounds of the Apprentices. It is here you'll be learning and living for the duration of your studies. The main building is just a little more ways. That's where you and Hedwig will be staying until she grows bigger and you need a home all to yourself."

Harry opened his mouth to reply and was surprised by the loud yawn that came from him.

Dumbledore nodded knowingly. "You've had a long day. And tomorrow you'll be busy attending your first training. We've missed evening meal, but the Headmistress knows of our arrival and will have a meal ready for you and Hedwig."

"Thank you." Harry mumbled. His body was becoming sluggish and his eyes began to itch. He hadn't realized how tired he was until now. Hedwig was feeling lethargic as well, if the stumbling over a tree root was anything to go by.

Fatigued Harry didn't pay much attention to the main building of the academy, only that it was multiple stories with one tower made purely of stone with vegetation crawling up the walls.

They walked through the large courtyard before the main archway and there stood a woman. She had copper hair braided back with cool gray eyes and oval shaped face. Her attire was made up of dark leather and clothing and her sword hanged off her right hip.

Her neutral face broke out into a wide smile the moment her eyes rested upon Rider Dumbledore.

"Albus!" she called out excitingly.

"Ismira, my dear." The man greeted in kind. The woman embraced the taller Rider strongly and the two exchanged short phrases in her native tongue.

Dumbledore cleared his throat and looked apologetically at the young boy and dragon. "Forgive me, I'm being rude. Harry, Hedwig it is with great honor that I introduce you to Headmistress of the Academy and Elder on the Council of Elders, Master Dragon Rider Ismira Stronghammer."

Rider Stronghammer rolled her eyes playfully and gently swatted the man's shoulders. "You'll have to excuse this one." She said in a slight accent. "He's a flatterer." Harry and Hedwig chuckled.

Dumbledore held up his hands in mock surrender. "Guilty as charged."

Stronghammer moved forward until she was standing directly in front of Harry and his dragon. She smiled in a way that reminded Harry of his pseudo-aunt Andromeda and held out her hand. "Good evening Harry and Hedwig. Welcome to the Academy."

Smiling widely, despite his fatigued, Harry took the proffered hand and shook it. "Thank you, it's great to be here."


End file.
